


Noisy Thoughts

by scarletstring



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 162,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4964323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletstring/pseuds/scarletstring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene moves in to her new apartment, where she meets her interesting roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Noise

**Author's Note:**

> Wenrene. 
> 
> And yes, it's a chapter story. 
> 
> Also posted on Red Velvet's International Forum (ForVelvet) and AsianFanfics.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It clicks." The shorter girl says, almost in afterthought.
> 
> Irene raises a curious brow, hums in acknowledgement despite the odd comment and turns the upper dial of the door to act as secondary protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got sucked into the vortex that is Wenrene and I can't get out.

Her roommate hates the door.

  
"It clicks." The shorter girl says, almost in afterthought.

  
Irene raises a curious brow, hums in acknowledgement despite the odd comment and turns the upper dial of the door to act as secondary protection.

  
"...It's noisy." She says as she inches towards it, eyes steady on the silver knob.

  
So this is her roommate; picky with sounds, Irene thinks, bringing the cup to her lips, discreetly observing the girl above the rim.

  
Light brown hair and relatively long in length, with a pout seemingly permanent on her lips. Her dark brown eyes share the same shade of her drink, never leaving the doorknob as she steps forward, nearing the doorway.

  
Irene drops the cup down so it rests close to her stomach, observes the other girl as her thumb rubs gently against the coated material that protects her hand from the heat of her drink.

  
Her roommate doesn't seem all that bad, despite the nitpicking. Irene has just moved in because her  _Satan_  of a friend said it was the only one available in the quiet neighborhood on 34th street. Irene likes it so far, but she’s not quite sure about her roommate yet.

  
Irene had already placed her things on the left most side of the room; hoping her roommate wouldn't mind her having settled on a spot already, before having left to get coffee. The coffee shop just around the block was small and quaint, just how she likes it.

 

“But it’s not as loud as home,” the shorter girl mutters as she taps at the lock.

 

From the sounds of her roommate’s fascination with the door, the girl’s new too.

 

“Hey,” Irene calls out gently, walking towards her and hoping her greeting doesn’t frighten the girl off. She wouldn’t be surprised if she did, since she looks more  _eccentric_  than the average type. “I’m Joohyun,”

 

The stranger nods almost absently, glancing at her shortly before returning her gaze back to the door.

 

“Wendy.” The girl says, fiddling with the chain of the lock. “People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead.”

 

Irene ends up nodding to herself, considering that the girl isn’t even looking at her. She’s not really disturbed by the fact that the girl doesn’t pay much attention to her (which she’s grateful for because she’s usually the center everywhere else) and heads back to her luggage to unpack.

 

The apartment isn’t too small; they each have their own separate rooms and the living room space looks considerably big, though it may be due to the kitchen being open along with it.

 

She’s not too bothered by having a roommate. She had one before, but the previous girl always had boys over too and that had often led to disasters (too much ogling), and so Irene just got out.

 

This one seems quiet – sort of. And not much of a loves-boys-lots type of girl, from the looks of it. Irene doesn’t really mind whether she does or doesn’t, as long as her business  _stays_  her business.

 

_Click, click, click, click._

 

Irene glances back at Seungwan, inwardly surprised that the girl is still in front of the door, twisting the lock so it’d open, before closing it again, and repeat.

 

She wonders if she should ask. She’s not bothered by the sounds (she  _has_  heard worse, like a boy and a girl alone in a bedroom – mixtures of screams and thumps) so she walks up to her again as she sips her drink.

 

“You okay?” Irene manages to ask from the rim of her cup. Seungwan looks normal really, except for the fact that her ear is against the door and her clear itch to repeat things over and over again.

 

Seungwan’s bubbly despite the oddness of everything.

 

“Superb,” Irene can’t tell if it’s sarcasm, but Seungwan looks as genuine as her mother when she’s going on about her favorite drama. “Don’t you like the sound?”

 

Irene blinks once, twice, before sipping her coffee again to fully process the question her roommate has just asked.

Her reply is tentative and unsure, but Seungwan doesn’t seem to notice it.

 

“…It’s nice,”

 

Seungwan’s brows perk up at her and after one more click, she stops. Irene’s actually rather surprised the girl is pulling away from the door. She was getting accustomed to having the girl practically attached to it like a second skin.

 

Irene’s slightly stunned when Seungwan begins to bow her head, looking sheepish.

 

“Sorry, I’m – um, I’m pretty weird, huh?”

 

She’s not sure she should answer; she’s rather curt, but honesty has always been the best policy.

 

“… Yeah,” Irene gauges the girl’s reaction to her words, though the girl doesn’t seem bothered at all. “Why is that?”

 

Irene doesn’t mean to come off as callous or anything, and thankfully the girl doesn’t take it to heart either, if she’s reading her right.

 

“I… um, I’m sensitive to sounds. Not in the ‘sensitive hearing’ sense like that – uh, superhero devil guy.” Irene raises a brow at the blush beginning to stain the shorter girl’s cheeks, “But – um, rather, it’s the  _type_  of sounds that I hear. Like, I only like sounds that ‘tick’ or ‘click’…”

 

“… Okay?”

 

Seungwan begins to tap on her wristwatch, a consecutive sequence of ticks coming off from the surface of its glass. Irene counts the length of time of each tap – one second – at a steady rhythmic pace.

 

Maybe this girl’s getting nervous.

 

“It’s, well, ‘normal’ noises to everyone else is – um, to me, it bothers me. And I, sometimes –  _most of the time_ , need to reign myself in and, um, as you can see…” she gestures to her wristwatch, still tapping on it. “Sounds like ‘ticks’ and ‘clicks’ keep me anchored.”

 

Irene is starting to understand. And it’s not that odd, now that she thinks about it. She just has a different way of coping with things, than most people.

 

“So your wristwatch…”

 

“… I tap on it because the ticks are familiar to me,” Seungwan looks relieved, and Irene has an inkling it has to do with her lack of reaction to the confession. “It blocks out the other noises,”

 

“Other noises?”

 

“… Like thoughts,” Seungwan mutters softly that Irene almost misses it, “I – um, I think a lot. I think things, then think it over, and start to overthink it again and again and – um,” she lowers her head so she’s staring at her watch, “I get lost in thinking…”

 

Irene knows it’s deeper than that, from the way Seungwan’s eyes are shifty beneath her fringe, to the incessant taps she continues to make on her watch.

 

She won’t probe any further. It’s not her business, anyway.

 

“Well,” Irene gives her a reassuring smile, something small and something she’s not quite fond of giving too often, but Seungwan’s okay. “It’s nice to meet you, Seungwan.”

 

“S-Seungwan?” Irene guesses she’s not called by that name very often.

 

Irene attempts to adapt to her roommate’s preference, “If that’s okay with you,” she continues as if in afterthought, “I don’t mind the sound of Seungwan.”

 

And she’s not sure why it affects her when Seungwan’s eyes shimmer in response, like she’s about to cry (and  _oh god,_  she hopes she’s not going to because she sucks at comforting people) before Seungwan returns it with a tiny smile –  _“Yes, that’s okay. It’s still my name,”_  she finishes, before turning away to enter the kitchen.

 

The older girl furrows her brows at the odd reaction. It’s as if it’s the first time she’s been accepted for something as simple as a name.

 

Irene lifts her cup to finish the rest of her coffee. It’s gotten cold.  _She doesn’t even like coffee._

 

…She shouldn’t bother thinking so much. It’s none of her business anyway.

 

-

 

"Are you checking the lock again?" Irene asks absentmindedly – it’s the second day of living on 34th street, typing away on her laptop; her lab report is due tomorrow but it’s always nice to be finished earlier than on the day of.

 

She can hear Seungwan moving the lock on the door,  _click, click, click._

  
  
"Y-yes…" Seungwan looks embarrassed once Irene takes a short glance at the smaller girl, her roommate sending back a sheepish smile before continuing on her little ritual.

  
  
Irene doesn’t see anything wrong with asking things, so she does. "Why?"

 

"Because it clicks,"

  
  
"Clicks?" Irene echoes after her, seeing Seungwan nod from her peripheral.

  
  
"Whatever clicks, it makes me tick."

 

Irene hums, remembering how Seungwan copes with ‘noises’. She kind of wonders how her thoughts go if it’s to the point that she has to distract herself with something else.

  
  
"Like a clock - tick tock tick tock - y'know?" Seungwan says after a minute, Irene knows because the clock on her laptop now says 9:09 PM instead of 9:08 PM.

 

"… I know," she nods to herself at her work, before sipping on a glass of milk. Now’s the time for proof reading.

 

Seungwan’s voice filters through the air, which is silent other than the clacking of her laptop and the clicking of the door. "If it clicks, I have to make sure it properly clicks."

  
  
"Properly clicks?” Irene parrots, pushing down several backspaces because a sentence doesn’t sit well with the rest. “…Why?"

 

"Because I can't go to bed if it doesn't properly click. What if someone waltzes in because it’s open?"

 

Irene should have expected her to be a bit OCD too, now that she thinks about it. She resumes her typing, taking short glances back to the shorter girl because she actually looks really worried about someone breaking in.

  
  
"No one will waltz in," she says, hopefully reassuring enough that Seungwan wouldn’t worry anymore, though she’s not surprised it doesn’t stop her from playing with the lock still.

  
  
"I'll just make sure,"

  
  
And it takes sixty seconds – Irene’s been watching Seungwan count in whispers –before she's finally satisfied, switching the tab on the knob so it locks for the 43rd time.

 

When she flickers the light off in her respective room, Irene isn't surprised that Seungwan spends another minute switching it on and off, before finally coming to terms with the fact that it is indeed off.

 

“… Um,” Irene looks up from the living room, where she’s seated at the kitchen counter. Seungwan’s head is peeking out from the little slit of her door. “… G-good night, Joohyun.”

 

Irene smiles back, “Good night, Seungwan.” And Seungwan ducks her head, retreating back into her room, sliding the door shut.

 

Despite how…  _quirky,_  the girl is, Irene likes her presence. She’s glad she moved in. 

  
  
-

 

It’s been twelve days. Twelve days since she’s moved here, and Irene is enjoying herself. Quiet neighborhood, clean streets (relatively), and a great roommate; Irene wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Seungwan’s adapting to the apartment too, considering she’s not as overly attentive with the lock on the door anymore, or the light switch in her room. Seungwan settles mostly now for the tapping on her wristwatch whenever she’s thinking. At least, that’s what Irene thinks anyway.

 

But was it really all just about thinking?

 

Sometimes she sees Seungwan be like any other person, especially when she’s cooking – and Irene can’t lie that the girl’s a great cook – that an outsider wouldn’t have guessed she had such a unique condition.

 

When Seungwan’s not wearing her wristwatch, she’s as normal as one could ever be. It’s also the time when Irene watches her the most (though she has been watching her an awful lot from the get-go, Seungwan’s always been interesting from the start) and notices the littlest of differences.

 

How Seungwan looks more calmer, relaxed, and more composed. She laughs more and talks more; confidence oozing like it has always been there, and happiness flits from her lips that Irene’s not convinced that she’s the same person.

 

But she is because she still shares that same shy smile and that same habit of hers to hide behind her fringe.

 

Irene likes this side of Seungwan, but she also likes her quirky part too. The clumsy half that can’t keep from stuttering and loves to count the sounds of the ticks and clicks she makes from the door lock or her wristwatch.

 

And frankly, she can write a report on her observations about Seungwan because most of the time she’s just sitting on the chair stool writing another lab report, and there’s really nothing much to see except Seungwan wandering about, whether she be in the kitchen cooking something or fiddling with the sounds again. The only time she’s ever somewhere else is at the coffee shop on early mornings or doing her laundry some time in the afternoon.

 

 _10:43 AM,_  Irene sees the blaring time on her laptop. She’ll hopefully be finished by 11 o’clock if there are no more edits to be done.

 

“Good morning, Joohyun.” Irene nods her head at the girl, giving a quick smile in return before getting back to her work.

 

Seungwan’s not wearing her wristwatch right now. She figures there’s not a lot to be worried about so far.

 

“’Morning,”

 

Irene hears the clatter of dishes and it makes her wonder why Seungwan’s more bothered by the sound of the door lock than the sound of, well, anything else. She wasn’t bothered by a lot of things, much to Irene’s surprise, such as the sound of running water, or the squeaking of the tap. Seungwan’s not even bothered by the ding of the toaster every morning or the tapping on her keyboard (Irene wonders if maybe Seungwan’s just tolerating it though).

 

But other than the chain lock on the door or her wristwatch, nothing else affected Seungwan at all. Maybe the sounds are too different?

 

“Did you eat yet?” Irene is startled at the sight of eggs and toast beside her laptop, Seungwan’s voice bubbly and light as she settles to sit across from her. “I hope not; we don’t eat together often even though we’re roommates.”

 

She should also mention that Seungwan doesn’t stutter much at all either when she’s like this.

 

“Oh,” How coherent, Irene thinks, before saving her work and setting it to the side. “Thanks, I haven’t eaten yet, actually.”

 

Seungwan’s smile is beaming before she munches on her own toast, the sounds of crunching now the only thing that plagues the room. Irene chews on her own and relishes in the taste of such a simple meal. She’s certainly thankful to have a roommate like Seungwan.

 

“I – um,” Irene’s brow rises infinitesimally. Seungwan’s stuttering?  _But she has no watch on,_  “Can I ask you something?”

 

Irene blinks the surprise away, nodding her head and ushering the girl to go on with a simple wave of her hand.

 

Seungwan’s head is bowing low a little, like she’s trying to hide her eyes behind her bangs. Her voice comes out small. “How come you’re tolerating me?”

 

The taller girl is impressed she doesn’t choke on her food, coughing a bit instead and swallowing hard before staring at Seungwan like she has on the wrong light bulb in her head.

 

Seungwan’s apologizing.

 

“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you choke, I-I was just wondering why you’re still here, is all…”

 

“… Do you not want me here?”

 

Seungwan’s shaking her head so fast that Irene’s afraid the girl will give herself whiplash.

 

“No! No, no no no, not at all! I – um,” the table plays as Seungwan’s new wristwatch, the other girl now beginning to tap her finger against the wood. “…I was just, well, I’m just surprised you haven’t left me yet…” Seungwan makes herself look smaller than she already does, shrinking back like she’ll get hit for even saying what’s on her mind.

 

Irene frowns. The girl shouldn’t be thinking like that.

 

“Why would I leave you?”

 

Seungwan’s smile is wry, almost as if she wants to laugh at the question. Her voice comes out weak and tiny.

 

“… Why wouldn’t you?” Irene glances at Seungwan’s tapping finger, and Seungwan catches her line of sight and attempts to stop herself, pressing down on her hand with the other. “… See? Doesn’t it bother you…?”

 

Irene bites into her toast then, as if taking the time to contemplate, but her eyes never leave Seungwan’s and she watches the girl shrink further into herself, her brown pools now hidden behind curtains of light auburn hair.

 

She swallows before saying something, finally collecting her thoughts into words she knows she wants to say.

 

“If it did, I would have left a long time ago.” And it’s true. Irene’s not the type to stick around if it was hindering her in some way. But that’s not the case with Seungwan. It never was. “What  _does_  bother me is how you can think like that.”

 

If Seungwan could look any smaller than she already was, she’s doing it now. Her shoulders are curled in, light chestnut hair falling over her face, with her hands no longer above the table but Irene can still hear the constant tapping of wood.

 

Irene’s not the type to hold back on her words though, because why wouldn’t she be blunt about how she feels?

 

“… It’s just…” Seungwan’s voice is small, barely audible that Irene has to lean forward slightly from where she sits. “… People don’t like it, the sounds I make.” Irene keeps mum as Seungwan continues on, the shorter girl biting her lips to keep them from quivering. “They say it’s – well, annoying.” Seungwan’s hands are slowly crawling back up the table, and Irene can see Seungwan’s hiding them beneath her long sleeves, a single finger evidently peeking out to keep the noise constant. “Same with, um – this stuttering, well – and broken, speech of mine.”

 

Irene hums, nodding her head, but keeps her eyes on Seungwan because the girl looks so fragile and it’s a wonder why it affects her so. The taller girl understands her predicament; some people just can’t tolerate constant noise – preferring peace and quiet. And some find it as annoying as the screeching of chalkboard.

 

“That’s… that’s why I thought, um, that you were thinking of leaving, being so quiet and all…” Irene raises a brow and she wonders if she’s imagining the faint red in Seungwan’s cheeks. “… So I thought I’d – um, give you a way out. Let you go?”

 

She gets it. It makes sense, considering she’s not the type to talk much; never talking about herself. But that’s not entirely why she’s silent.

 

Irene finishes the last bits of her toast, swallowing it whole before wiping off whatever crumbs were left behind.

 

“I like it,” Irene says after some time, Seungwan looking up as fast as she did then, making Irene wonder if the girl had just given herself a broken neck, “The sounds you make. I keep quiet so I can listen to them,” –  _because they’re a constant and that’s comforting._  Irene’s eyes have never left Seungwan’s face even as she pushes her plate away and settles her laptop in front of her again. “So no, I’m not planning to leave, and I’m not about to start now either.” Irene opens the screen but Seungwan’s eyes are still visible above the rim, her brown pools peeking out from the curtains of her fringe. “You’ll just have to get used to me,”

 

Irene starts typing away at her laptop,  _clack clack clack,_  not because she wants to do the rest of her report (but she will because she should), but because she knows the silence that comes afterwards would be too overbearing to hear (Seungwan has stopped tapping on the table and that just means she’s done thinking – and she can’t predict what will happen) and Irene’s too used to sounds being present that she just has to type the quiet away.

 

She’s acutely aware of the sound of Seungwan’s chair screeching lightly against the floor,  _she’s moving,_  but Irene has no clue where she’s going. But before Irene registers the fact that her hands have stopped pressing the keys to her laptop, Seungwan’s touching her back, palms resting against her, her hands trembling (she can feel the shaking of her fingers) and Irene knows this is as close to a hug as Seungwan will give her.

 

They were never the touchy type of roommates, not because Irene didn’t want it – she was sure to keep Seungwan’s space though, but because she was unsure of whether it was okay to. Seungwan probably thought the same.

 

Irene can feel Seungwan’s finger begin their tapping, and it’s soft and silent – it makes no noise, but she can feel Seungwan’s relief from the mere touch of her palms. They’re warm against her sweater.

 

… And then Seungwan’s mouth is against the space between the back of her shoulders, the words burning through her sweater that Irene can feel the heat grazing her skin.

 

It’s a mere whisper but it’s so loud amidst the quiet.

 

“… I won’t be able to let you go if you’re going to be like this,” it was a straight sentence, and Irene’s taken aback at how delicate she sounds – and hopeful. “… Don’t be like this to me, please…”

 

Seungwan sounds so used to being left behind and it twists something in Irene’s chest.

 

Irene combs back stray strands of her dark hair, inwardly sighing at the wreck of jumbled feelings and thoughts and frustration because  _geez, I’m going softer than a soft pillow._  But she has always been soft with Seungwan from day 1, and that’s kind of terrifying.

 

She doesn’t get what’s going on with her – because why is the sound of her heart so loud that it echoes in her ears – but Irene hopes that it’s nothing overly horrifying.

 

“Get used to it,” Irene wants to sound cold and firm but it’s coming off as gentle and tender instead, “And don’t let go. It’s not like I’ll be complaining anyway,” she’s trying so hard to be indifferent with her words but her tone of voice is at the opposite end of the spectrum.

 

And tentatively, Seungwan’s hands stop trembling and her forehead presses against her back – Irene can hear it. The sound of the girl’s tears as it drops onto her sweater, but nothing comes out of her mouth. She can imagine Seungwan’s lips quivering again, trying to muffle the sound of sobs – feels Seungwan’s hope seep into her skin, a spot on her sweater getting wet.

 

Irene stays where she is, perched on their stool chair, no longer bothering to type away because she wants to listen to Seungwan’s relief – and it’s sad that she’s relieved at something like this,  _something as simple as someone who’s willing to stay,_  Irene thinks, and it’s tragic.

 

She won’t turn around because Seungwan has a death grip on her and she doesn’t want to see the girl so broken, so she sits still and listens to the muffled cries that escape shaky lips.

 

Irene wants to be her pillar, but she can’t do that if she gets torn –  _feel like she’s cracking –_  seeing Seungwan like this. So she doesn’t.

 

-

 

Wendy had been terrified at the prospect of a roommate. And rightly so, considering she had such an… interesting condition.

 

It doesn’t show up very often, at least, not at school. When she’s in class, her mind is at rest because there’s music being played and music keeps her from thinking. Whether the students were singing, or playing an instrument, it was a place Wendy loved most – because it silenced the noise.

 

Being a music student, she was passionate in singing and enjoyed playing the guitar. But she only ever sings and strums strings at school, not at home. It’s because she’s afraid that if she does, the noises will get louder and if it gets louder at home, then she’ll never be able to go back.

 

And that was why she moved. She tried to block away the noises so much that her own home became the very thing she was afraid of. So Seulgi, sweet bear-like Seulgi, helped out with her move and now she was here, in a quiet apartment on 34th street.

 

_“I’m Joohyun,”_

 

Pretty. Very pretty, with dark hair and white skin akin to the famous –  _or infamous,_  horror movie character that made long awful groaning sounds that Wendy feared so much and –  _oh god, she’ll be living with the Grudge?! –_  she should stop thinking about it. Really.

 

… Oh god she hoped she wouldn’t die in her sleep.

 

She had kept herself close to the door, distracting herself from such terrifying thoughts with the lock; it helped.  _Twelve,_  Wendy counted in her head, continuing on her little habit. Turn it open. Then close it again. And repeat.

 

_“People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead.”_

 

She was trying to familiarize the sound of the lock; it was slightly quieter than her previous home, but not excruciatingly so that it was hard to hear. She wanted to engrave the sound in her head, memorize the click;  _click, click, click – fifteen,_  before leaving the door. It had a nice tick to it.

 

Wendy had been terrified at the prospect of a roommate.

 

But once she saw Joohyun – similar to the movie character in appearance that it truthfully startled her when she walked through the door – and heard her words,  _“I don’t mind the sound of Seungwan,”_  she wasn’t so terrified anymore.

 

-

 

It’s been 22 days since they’ve been living together.

 

They don’t go to school together, even though they attend the same one; Joohyun’s building is on the other side of the campus, and their schedules don’t mesh well to begin with. That’s why it’s rare to see Joohyun in the mornings, since she’s almost always off to school by the time Wendy’s up and getting ready for her classes, or sometimes even in the evenings when Joohyun’s too tired by the end of the day and heads straight to her room.

 

But when Wendy does see her in the mornings or evenings, Joohyun’s on her laptop, typing away on her keyboard and sipping a cup of coffee like always.

 

Wendy sometimes wonders if she’s annoying Joohyun.

 

Sometimes, when her head starts thinking more than it should, she heads to the lock on the door and plays with it; turning the dial open, then close. It keeps the noise to a mere hum, and she has to keep it going until she memorizes the sound so she can play it in her head on repeat without it anymore.

 

Joohyun’s such a quiet girl.

 

Wendy’s afraid she’s bothering her but every time she starts thinking that way, her mind wanders back to the 12th day, with eyes so piercing Wendy thought she was reading the noises in her head.  _“The sounds you make. I keep quiet so I can listen to them,”_

 

 _…_  And there’s that weird gnawing feeling again. Something primal and warm and tight squeezing its way into her heart and settling there, leaving burns and tattooing its mark with every beat. It makes her chest heavy with thoughts and ears filled with the pounding rhythm and –

 

– there’s noise again.

 

Wendy settles for the tapping on her wristwatch,  _one, two, three,_  hoping the beating of her heart lessens so her eardrums won’t be crushed and her thoughts would stop picturing Joohyun all the time. She doesn’t even understand why.

 

The noises that terrified her used to be about home – about her mom and dad, her friends who left her because she was;  _just so loud,_  about passing strangers who;  _just had enough of her sounds, get lost,_  and everything else that hurt her;  _go away, weirdo._

 

_Eight, nine, ten…_

 

But now the noise is just Joohyun –  _sweet, quiet, Joohyun._  Her precious roommate;  _you’ll just have to get used to me,_  Joohyun.

 

“I didn’t know which one you liked more, so…” Joohyun’s smile is tired and droopy and lazy and gentle, as she drops a bag of chocolates in her hand, cradling hers so it could balance better; Ferrero’s. “… Here you go, because I like it and you should too.” Before tousling Wendy’s hair with a hand, tender and sweet, and moving on to hang her jacket on the coatrack.

 

And when Joohyun shows up with a side like that,  _oh god what number am I on, thirteen?_  It makes the noise harder to ignore. Joohyun was better off being just quiet – for Wendy’s sake. And this noise – this noise filled with just Joohyun, is every bit more terrifying than the ones before.

 

Because it’s terrifying just how much she likes thinking about Joohyun and how she makes her feel.

 

Wendy continues to tap on her watch, mindful of the chocolates still in her grip.

 

_Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…_

 

-

 

“How’s the apartment?”

 

Irene plays with the spoon in her cup, the coffee stench wafting through her nose and it keeps her awake. It’s still too hot to drink, but it’s not like she likes it anyway.

 

“Good, my roommate isn’t bad either.”

 

Satan –  _Joy (Sooyoung),_  as she preferred to be called, grins so wide it stretches from ear to ear. Irene doesn’t want to hear what comes out next from her mouth.

 

“Is she cute?” Her brows are dancing on her face, up and down, over and over again, like that famous song going around lately. Irene shrugs, lifting the spoon to have a taste of it.

 

…Yeah, she hates coffee. And it’s still hot.

 

Sooyoung is mumbling as she taps on her cup, a frown on her lips. “What, so she’s not cute?” Irene attempts to shrug again but Sooyoung is having none of it, taking her cup away before Irene could even dip her spoon back in. “And why do you keep ordering coffee when you don’t even like it?”

 

Sooyoung takes a sip of it before she immediately retracts her hand to settle it back on the table, fanning her mouth away, ignoring the way Irene laughs at her.

 

Irene slides it back to her side and runs a thumb across its rim.

 

“She’s…” Sooyoung looks on as if expecting something interesting to come out of her mouth, “… normal.”

 

“… Normal.” Sooyoung deadpans, the excitement oozing off just as quickly as it came on.

 

Irene nods, knowing the term carries far more than what was just on the surface. Sooyoung doesn’t need to know that, though.

 

“And I drink coffee because I hate it.” Sooyoung raises a brow and Irene attempts to take a sip. Hm, just a little longer. “So it keeps me awake,”

 

They say nothing else after that, enjoying the Saturday afternoon in the little coffee shop just around the corner. The window is large enough that it covers a whole side of the café, so every table has a chance to just look out and stare at the red and orange leaves that were falling onto the street.

 

Sooyoung wanted a quick hangout before she left for work, and because Joohyun needed a break from another report, she went with her. Seungwan had given her a short smile and a wave of goodbye,  _“See you later,”_  before the taller girl walked out. And that was it.

 

So Irene doesn’t know why it’s still in her head. Replaying that scene again and again. Why was she even thinking about her?

 

_“Can’t you just keep quiet?!”_

 

_“S-Sorry!”_

 

Irene immediately turns to the familiar voice, watching Seungwan squeak at a man who’s a head taller than her. The shorter girl is attempting to stop her hands from tapping on the wooden table but when she begins to tap on her watch instead, the man is yelling at her again.

 

_“What are you, retarded? Can’t you just keep your hands still?!”_

 

The man looks much older than her, with specks of white hair growing out on the sides of his head. His table is just right next to Seungwan’s, so it’s not surprising he’d be able to hear her tapping.

 

“Hey, what went up that guy’s butt?” Sooyoung’s voice barely registers in her head as she watches the man roll up his newspaper, his gaze locked on Seungwan’s hands.

 

Irene knows the rest of the café are silent in their watching, waiting with bated breaths as the man now towers over Seungwan, the girl looking as small as she must’ve felt at that moment.

 

Something cracks in her mind and makes everything red at the sight of Seungwan flinching from his movement, the pounding of her heart painfully loud and aching in her ears.

 

Her chair screeches beneath her, and her steps are firm and calculating,  _three, two, one –_  she vaguely hears Sooyoung’s,  _“Wait, what are you –”_ before she slings her drink at the man, watching him screech at the hot liquid burning his face. Irene can hear the occupants in the room gasp as he stumbles backwards, breaking a table on the way down.

 

Irene settles her glass cup calmly on Seungwan’s table, the shorter girl stunned into silence at what had just happened as Irene ushers her up by the elbow. She can hear Sooyoung follow closely behind as she drags Seungwan out of the café and away from judging eyes.

 

Seungwan’s thinking again, from the way her finger is tapping on her forearm as she holds onto her, Seungwan’s cheek pressing up against her shoulder. But the constant motion clears Irene’s head and takes away the red from her eyes, soothing her heart into a softer pattern.

 

She hates coffee anyway.


	2. Degree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy hadn't meant to cause a scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with thoughts (noises) differently.

Wendy hadn't meant to cause a scene.

 

She had just felt bored (and a little lonely) in the apartment so she opted to take herself out and explore the neighborhood. It has only been 32 days since she's moved here and despite that, Wendy hadn't felt comfortable enough to venture out of her routine - school, apartment, and repeat.

 

Joohyun had just left to hang out with a friend (Wendy tries not to acknowledge the little envy in the corner of her mind) and being alone with noises still clamoring in her head – the lock and wristwatch soothed only a tiny portion of them today – Wendy figured she could stray from the main road for a little while.

 

Stepping out onto the clean pavement on 34th street, Wendy roamed aimlessly about; fascinated and easing the boredom that was settled in her mind with the falling leaves of November.

 

It was slightly chilly out, the breeze colder than usual, signaling the coming of winter. Wendy vaguely wondered if the first day of snowfall would be as pretty as last year’s, with the way the street lights illuminated each snowflake, making them sparkle and covering them in a soft glow that kept Wendy awake for that one night.

 

The sight had silenced the noises – better than any song or deliberate sound – and Wendy wanted to keep it that way, for once. It healed better than sleep ever could.

 

Falling leaves of red, orange, brown, yellow, with patches of green, distracted Wendy long enough to stumble upon a small café, the window big enough that she could see all the patrons inside.

 

Wendy had spotted Joohyun, casually spinning her utensil in her cup as she nodded her head at whatever her companion was talking about.

 

She realized a little later (once she let her eyes absorb the image of Joohyun in her mind) that the other customers were staring back at her through the window. Embarrassed, Wendy had blushed and hurriedly moved out of their line of sight, forgetting that she was literally just in front of the window for everyone to see.

 

She stood by the entrance and pondered on whether she should go in, but the tickling in her stomach and the wings fluttering in her chest led her legs inside, her steps sure that by the time Wendy realized she was glaring at her feet for moving on their own, she had already made it to the cashier, the boy looking expectantly as soon as Wendy glanced back up.

 

"Oh, um. Just a regular coffee,"

 

He had merely nodded and once she paid the designated price, Wendy shuffled her feet from where she stood, looking for a table where she could sit. She saw one empty by the entrance, two tables away from a couple that had hearts for eyes and five from Joohyun's line of sight.

 

Wendy settled herself in once she got her coffee, sips small as she stared back out to watch the fall of red, orange, yellow, brown, and green, Joohyun never quite leaving her peripheral from the corner of her eyes.

 

The murmuring chatters played like a hum in her ears, a sound she liked immediately because of its constant thrumming and quiet stir amidst the view of November weather.

 

Normally she didn't like it, because it didn't have the constant tone that a click or tick would have, but maybe she had grown accustomed to Joohyun's, recognizing bouts of raspy chuckles and husky words, that she didn't mind the disorder of sounds and found comfort in them instead.

 

Joohyun was in her head again.

 

Wendy began to tap her finger on the table, the sound not quite similar to the countertop at home (it would have to do) so she could silence the pictures of her roommate that was flickering through her vision.

 

It only managed delay the images of her by two seconds and Wendy had to make her taps a little louder. It probably didn't help that Joohyun's voice was still audible in her ears despite the constant chatters of everyone else. Hers was just so clear.

 

Joohyun's voice played too much like a melody to a song Wendy had no words to, but her heart was her strings and the lyrics were somewhere between the rhythms of each beat.

 

Wendy wanted to know why the noises that were in her head mirrored the ones in her chest.

 

_"Can't you just keep quiet?!"_

 

 

And she remembers flinching at the loud voice, booming and harsh, disrupting the song in her head and clearing away the pictures of Joohyun.

 

She had squeaked her apology, settled for tapping on her wristwatch, before getting reprimanded again as quickly as she did and wincing at the shattering echo in her ears of words Wendy should've been used to hearing already.

 

_"What are you, retarded? Can't you just keep your hands still?!"_

 

Her apologies came quick and recited, but retained their meaning because she knew how much of an annoyance she was and hoped they could forgive her for it – but they never did (never do), and Wendy knew they still wouldn’t.

 

But once she heard the screeching of a chair, and found Joohyun's eyes ablaze with emotions too full and heavy and overwhelming that Wendy couldn't discern a single thing, she felt her heart leap to her throat, Joohyun's name just across her lips before she felt a painful whack to her hands.

 

She should be used to her fingers stinging too.

 

Wendy had flinched then, shrinking back, and was afraid to look up at the man still snarling above her until she saw Joohyun right in front of her, dark pools of brown fiery and scathing. He must've felt her presence because as soon as he turned around, Joohyun's hand whipped out and slung the liquid in her cup to the man, his figure crashing down in a pit of cracks and shrieks of furniture and patrons.

 

She felt Joohyun grab her elbow and suddenly she was outside, leaves flitting by as Wendy held on, her thoughts going back to the café, her finger instinctively tapping on the soft material of Joohyun's jacket.

 

And now here she is, steps trailing just beside her roommate, attempting to keep up with her quick stride.

 

Joohyun's been silent since the event, and Wendy can feel the tension in Joohyun’s arm beneath her grip, the muscles tight under her cheek.

 

With every tap she makes against her forearm, Wendy can feel the stress in her limb ease off of Joohyun, can feel her give way to a cooler head and feel the relief leak out of her roommate’s posture.

 

So she keeps it constant, making Joohyun relax under her touch as the leaves rustle beneath their feet. Wendy likes the fact that her habit – unwanted, not liked, annoying – can settle the blazing fire in Joohyun's eyes.

 

Wendy feels a light tap on her shoulder, "Uh, so, you okay there?" She recognizes the girl as Joohyun's companion, tall and with long slick black hair that mirrors her roommate's. "It looked like he hit you pretty hard..." She says concernedly, bending down a little so she could see Wendy’s fingers.

 

And something must've clicked in Joohyun's head because Wendy can feel her unloop their arms so she can check on her hands, her touch warm amidst the slight chill in the air as she studies them between her fingers, cradles them like they're delicate porcelain.

 

Wendy tries to hush the slight panic she can see in Joohyun's eyes that now cloud over them, "I'm okay," she could see the worry reflected across her roommates lips, "I'm okay," she says again, but Joohyun doesn't seem to hear her.

 

Joohyun’s friend merely gives her a wistful smile and a lighthearted shrug.

 

Wendy tries again, "I'm okay," Wendy frees one of her hands so she can cradle Joohyun’s cheek, rub her thumb gently across the corner of her lips. "I'm okay, Joohyun. Really," Wendy whispers as soothingly as she can be, watches the smoke that had covered over Joohyun's eyes fade to clear brown she finds enchanting every time.

 

"...Right, well." Wendy vaguely hears Joohyun's friend beside her, murmuring under her breath as the sounds of steps begin to get distant. "I'll talk to you later unnie,"

 

Wendy feels kind of bad for practically ignoring the girl, but when Joohyun's still looking at her with dazed pools of brown, she can't look away.

 

Tenderly, almost as if possessed by the strings of her heart and the lyrics to a song Wendy's trying to find, she glides her hand up from Joohyun's cheek to her brow, tapping three times; a few thank you’s made the only way she knows how.

 

The first time she taps her brow, Joohyun crinkles them, and Wendy can feel the hairs slide under her touch – one for accepting her.

 

When she taps for the second time, Joohyun raises the brow as if trying to get it to run away and Wendy giggles at the curiosity now blanketing Joohyun's eyes – two for being there.

 

The third time, Wendy reaches up just a little higher so she can touch the soft hairs that tried to wiggle away, Joohyun squinting her eyes, trying to read the words to the lyrics Wendy knows are currently reflected in her eyes (but she doesn’t know them either) – three, for staying.

 

She knows it’s silly. But with the way Joohyun’s looking at her now, with round eyes, curious and confused, Wendy can’t help it. It gives her faux courage and even if it’s false, Wendy wants to enjoy it while she can.

 

Joohyun's lips cross and jut into a pout, and Wendy catches herself looking a second too long. "What were those for?"

 

The genuine curiosity spills with each word from her mouth, and Wendy tries not to let the meager gap between them affect her so much. Joohyun's voice already does more than enough.  

 

Wendy doesn't want to pull away, her thumb lingering over the arch of her brow, the little hairs soft under her touch.

 

"...They were thank you's," she mumbles, keenly aware of her other hand still within Joohyun's grasp.

 

The breeze that whizzes by is harder than usual and it breaks the spell that casted over them as soon as Joohyun shuts her eyes at the gust, letting go of Wendy's hand to shield them.

 

No longer spell bound by the courage that had once taken over – too short, way too short, she thinks – Wendy reverts back to feeling timid, retracting her hand so she can cradle it close to her chest. She can still feel Joohyun's skin across her palm, soft and tender, tingling under her fingers.

 

"Let's head back, it's getting cold out." Joohyun says, placing a hand on the small of Wendy's back and the action makes her warm.

 

She tries not to stutter, much to her chagrin. "O-okay," Wendy can feel Joohyun guide her on the pavement, hand gently keeping her steady from the bursts of wind, keeping her close so that her arm cradles Wendy's back. 

 

"...And," Joohyun starts, Wendy turns her head and spots a blush tinting Joohyun's cheeks, "You're welcome," she finishes with a murmur, before she taps on Wendy's brow with a finger in return, gentle and playful, a small smile taking the corners of her lips.

 

The strings are loud in her ears, the rhythm of her heart echoing hard against her chest. Wendy's starting to see the words of a song in her head, but they're blurry blobs, fuzzy and incoherent, and it bugs her that she can't read them.

 

Wendy can't help but smile, mirroring the brightness in Joohyun's eyes. The wings in her stomach have yet to stop fluttering.

 

The noises don’t hurt anymore.

 

-

 

Somewhere between Joohyun working on another one of her reports and Wendy flicking through the channels of the TV (the sounds are still unfamiliar to her so she can’t stop pressing each button), they find themselves on the leather couch, too far apart to be called close friends but close enough to not be considered strangers.

 

Wendy figures this distance must be the equivalent to roommates then.

 

Joohyun’s going over her notes – she had mentioned to Wendy before about an exam coming up, so Wendy tries not to bother her when she’s got a pencil between her mouth as she highlights over terms Wendy doesn’t even want to try understanding.

 

She lowers the volume so Joohyun could concentrate a little better, hoping that her habit of pressing the still unfamiliar buttons on the remote not too troubling. Wendy tries to memorize the sound faster, tries to familiarize herself so that she won’t have to hold onto it anymore.

 

“I’m not bothered, just so you know.” Joohyun’s voice comes out alarmingly loud amidst the quiet apartment, despite it being just above a whisper.

 

Wendy laughs sheepishly, before raising the volume a little louder; just enough to play as background sound to Joohyun’s scribbling.

 

Only a few moments pass before Joohyun’s phone rings, the sound distant enough that it’s muffled by the closed door of her room.

 

“Could you get that for me?” Joohyun asks lightly, clearly distracted by her work. “I’m thinking through a problem right now and the answer’s just escaping me,” she sighs, but sends her a thankful smile once Wendy gets up to look for it.

 

Wendy turns her head once she reaches the knob of Joohyun’s room, and when she receives a distant “Yeah, go ahead,” she twists it and enters, the scent of fabric softener wafting through her nose immediately.

 

It smells so good that Wendy wonders if Joohyun had secretly stashed a personal laundry room somewhere in here.

 

The room mirrors her own – except with a more rugged look (in terms of organization). Textbooks sprawled everywhere, from the countertop of her vanity to a portion of the floor, crumpled papers piled up in her little trash bin with a segment of them surrounding the filled container.

 

Wendy vaguely wonders if this could be considered a mirror of what’s in Joohyun’s head.

 

But Joohyun’s so prim and proper. Most of the time. She doesn’t seem like the type to have jumbled thoughts, but then again, it’s not like they talk much about each other, to each other.

 

Despite all the disarray, Wendy finds a charming order in its chaos. It still resembles Joohyun: neatly anarchic.

 

She finds the ringing phone (a default tone of beeps that Wendy doesn’t find too appalling) beneath a bundle of clothes splayed out on the bed.

 

But as she fishes for it, she finds a box of cigarettes instead; the ringing coming out in discord and fading into mere muddled sounds that doesn’t register anymore as she stares at the container.

 

Joohyun smokes?

 

The question sounds foreign even in her own ears, in her own head, as she inspects the box. It hasn’t been opened yet though, evident from the transparent tape still plastered across the latch.

 

Perhaps Joohyun wanted to try it? Unless this wasn’t her first box. But she hadn’t caught Joohyun smoking at all since she had moved here. Perhaps it was a gift then?

 

The incessant ringing comes back in full volume, and Wendy shuffles to scavenge the phone again, dumping the box of cigarettes back into the pile as she pulls the noisy device instead.

 

She doesn’t want to intrude on her privacy any longer, and hopes Joohyun isn’t suspicious with her.

 

“Here you go,” Wendy says once she shuts the door behind her, hurrying to Joohyun’s side so she can pass it over. “I just… had a little trouble finding it for a bit…”

 

Joohyun doesn’t think much of it, taking the phone with a grateful curve of her lips and answering on the way up from the couch.

 

As Joohyun walks away to take the call, Wendy settles back down on her side of the chair, slumping into the cushion and absorbing the information she has just found.

 

Smoking doesn’t bother Wendy all that much (but she prefers to keep away if someone is because she doesn’t want second-hand entering her lungs), though she will admit that she had stereotyped such persons who do, for leather belts and black clothes with a wide array of piercings on almost every inch of the body (exaggerated, she knows, but it gets the point across).

 

Wendy just didn’t peg Joohyun as the smoking type.

 

“I can’t manage to catch a break,” Joohyun groans as she walks back to the living room, a frown evident on her lips.

 

Wendy stands up and attempts to ease the frustration on her face as she bounds for the kitchen, snatching up the bag of Ferrero’s Joohyun had given her a while back (she doesn’t gulp it all down thankfully like her roommate) and offers her one.

 

“Thanks,” Joohyun sighs as she sprawls her whole body across the entire couch, before sitting up as if jolted by electricity at the realization that Wendy needed space. “Sorry,” The apology comes off easy from her tongue but Wendy hushes her by lifting her head so she can place it on her lap instead.

 

Wendy doesn’t know when it came over her, just that it did, and allows such faux courage – it returned, she thinks, both glad and terrified – to control the gears in her limbs.

 

And now they’re just there, Joohyun’s head on her lap, curious brown eyes raised up at her as Wendy tries to ease the crease between Joohyun’s brows with her thumb.

 

She can feel the harsh thrumming in her stomach, the pounding throbs in her ears of the rattling organ in her chest, and the chaotic discord of her thoughts; all exponentially louder than Wendy thought she could handle.

 

But they’re not painful.

 

Wendy presses down on the skin gently, her thumb lingering over the wrinkle there until it fades back into soft surface. She wants to know why all this noise; all this chaos happens to her when she’s with Joohyun, but they don’t hurt.

 

They don’t hurt like how it hurts to think about her parents, or her friends.

 

Joohyun looks lost and Wendy almost coos at the sight. “… Seungwan?”

 

Wendy has to admit, despite the synthetic confidence, it doesn’t make her words any less true.

 

“You know…” Wendy trails off, pushing away stray strands of black from Joohyun’s face. “… The noises don’t hurt so much anymore,”

 

Joohyun looks pleasantly surprised, from the way her brown eyes go a tad bit wider, her frown flipping to a curve of a smile. Wendy can feel affection bubble inside her and it’s warm.  _So warm._

 

“That’s great,” Joohyun says and it’s relieving to hear the tinge of happiness dripping from her words. Wendy’s heart sings at the sound.

 

Maybe it’s because of the fluttering feels of butterflies in her stomach or the song that’s playing in her chest, but whatever it is, Wendy is grateful for the encouragement.

 

Wendy bends down so she can have her lips brush Joohyun’s forehead, a mixture of a chaste kiss and marks of words that she’d like to write across as it spills out of her mouth; a part of the lyrics to the song she’s still trying to figure out.

 

But she’s getting there.

 

“… You make the noises hurt less,” Wendy whispers, brushing on smooth canvas of skin, and she lets it linger there – lets the words sink in before her courage runs out.

 

When Wendy finally snaps back to her senses a few seconds later, she pulls away with a jolt only to see the burning red blush Joohyun’s sporting mirror the one she feels on her face.

 

They try to laugh it off together, try to make the warm air fade away with awkward chuckles and misplaced giggles, and with a bit of trouble, they manage to resume their tasks: Wendy flicking through channels and Joohyun reviewing her notes.

 

But Wendy can feel that the air between them has changed, and it was for the better.

 

She knew because Joohyun splayed her legs across the couch several minutes later so she could have her feet settle on Wendy’s lap, allowing her to fiddle with the toes as she continued taking notes.

 

Wendy laughs and plays with them, drumming her fingers across the smooth skin; she can barely hear the noises.

 

This feels like home.

 

-

 

It has been a month since then.

 

They've gotten closer. Wendy won't deny it.

 

Sometimes, when Joohyun's free, they'll go shopping together, buying groceries the apartment needs. And if not for groceries, they'd go window-shopping – and if there was something one of them liked, they’d give their input and exchange opinions.

 

They even bought roommate sweaters together – one blue and the other pink (Joohyun’s favorite color purple was unfortunately out of stock so she settled for the lesser of two neutrals; pink rather than brown), which had the term ‘roommates’ plastered blatantly across the front.

 

Wendy won’t admit that she likes it when Joohyun calls it a ‘couple shirt’. It was just too embarrassing and Joohyun tended to get a kick out of her reaction whenever she wore it.

 

Especially when she was particularly playful.

 

“I – I told you, it’s ‘sweater’!” Wendy would squeak out, slightly exasperated at the number of times – 13 going on 14 – Wendy has to remind her of the technicality, before shrinking inside the material so she could hide her rosy ears too.

 

“No correction for ‘couple’ again, I see.” The taller girl says between smiling teeth, amused, and Joohyun’s eyes would twinkle with mirth at Wendy’s fiery blush.

 

Wendy could never argue with that.

 

It would always end – most of the time if not vice versa, with Joohyun heading into her room to grab her respective sweater and pull it on, before she would sit back down and continue writing up another one of her assignments, a small smile on her lips.

 

And something that simple was more than enough to remind Wendy how sweet Joohyun could be too.

 

Joohyun’s currently out to hand in her report, and Wendy’s strumming the strings of her guitar, oddly comfortable doing so. The noises haven’t been bothering her for a while now (they’ve been rendered to a quiet hum) and it’s the most normal she has ever been.

 

So this is what it’s like, Wendy thinks, to be normal. She has an inkling feeling it’s because they’re all about Joohyun – sweet, quiet (she should add in playful now too) Joohyun – and it’s not something Wendy’s bothered about thinking about at all.

 

It’s the first time she’s comfortable about thinking; thinking about the way Joohyun smiles in the morning, all lopsided and hair unkempt, or when she comes home, refined and elegant until the end of the day, in the comfort of their apartment, a tired and tender curve across her lips.

 

The noises became Joohyun and Wendy doesn’t get hurt from it.

 

Sometimes there’ll be bouts of other thoughts, of mom and dad –  _“Seungwan come home, please,”_  or  _“Wan-Wan we miss you,”_ from her friends echoing in her head, and Wendy has to go to the lock on the door and turn the dial over and over again to stop it.

 

If it’s particularly persistent, she memorizes the tune of the lock and taps on her watch instead so they both play in her mind. She doesn’t want to think about them, no, not yet. Wendy doesn’t want to face them yet. She’s not ready.

 

She’s not –

 

Wendy jumps at the sound of her phone blaring through her thoughts –  _noise_ , and flicks it open (she prefers the phones that flip since it snaps with a click).

 

“Hello?”

 

_“Wendy!”_

 

She can feel her lips curl up into a grin, recognizing the voice of the one person who was the closest she’s got to a best friend.  

 

“Seul? What are you calling for?”

 

Wendy can feel the other girl roll her eyes, and she tries not to laugh too loud. Seulgi sighs, as if exasperated.

 

 _“I got you that apartment but you never invite me over! And is your roommate treating you okay?”_  Wendy can hear the slight worry in her voice and she gets it because she knows.

 

Wendy chuckles, “Sorry, I’ve… I’ve just been busy.” She says, before placating Seulgi with a quieter voice, timid at even the mention of her roommate. “And… yeah, she’s treating me okay.”

 

_“She better be,”_

 

Wendy lets herself laugh more, “Don’t worry Seul, she is.” She reassures her, not realizing the way her tone is just a tad warmer, a bit softer, and a lot gentler.

 

Seulgi picks it up, quick with her ears.  _“Hey, Wendy…?”_

 

“Hm?” She mumbles distractedly, the noises – pictures, of Joohyun plaguing the corners of her mind. Wendy wonders when she’ll be back, and would she be carrying another coffee from the café again?

 

 _“… Should I just hang up so you can think about her some more?”_  Seulgi practically whines into the phone and Wendy feels her face burn into an inferno at being read so easily.  _“Seriously, I can literally feel you blush from here.”_

 

“Seul…!”

 

Seulgi laughs, and Wendy can easily imagine the girl throwing her head back from the way she guffaws on the other end, raucous and loud. Wendy pouts, puffing her cheeks even when she knows Seulgi can’t see.

 

Once her laughter dies down, Seulgi’s smile can be felt through the phone.  _“But really, I’m glad you’re okay,”_  a minute of silence pass and Wendy can practically see the gears turn in her friend’s head.  _“And that she’s treating you okay too.”_

 

Wendy can feel affection rise in her chest, “Thanks, Seul.”

 

 _“… But now it_   _certainly explains why you haven’t invited me over yet,”_  Wendy doesn’t have to imagine the smirk slowly gracing Seulgi’s face and she tries not to have her ears redden too.  _“Spending all this precious time, just the two of you… you’re so possessive, Wendy!”_

 

“A-Am not!” She argues immediately, refusing to acknowledge the little voice in her head that’s saying, ‘Yes, kind of, sort of, a little, totally did,’ and tries to keep her friend from having the widest, stupidest grin permanently plastered on her face. “I just – well, I just forgot, that’s all.”

 

Seulgi’s snort is so loud that Wendy has to push the phone away before bringing it back to her ear.  _“Riiiight, well, just making sure you’re okay over there without my supervision.”_  Wendy scoffs into the receiver and Seulgi chuckles at the sound,  _“Make sure you keep warm because snow’s going to fall down any day now.”_

 

Wendy nods out of excitement, before remembering Seulgi still can’t see her. “Yeah I will, I still have my portable heater with me.”

 

_“Yeah you better, or would you like a sleepover so I can cuddle with you again and keep you warm like the teddy bear I am?”_

 

“No!” Wendy shrieks, embarrassed at the reminder of needing to hug something warm during the winter, “And I should have never given you that nickname…”

 

 _“It’s a cute nickname though so I’ll keep it,”_  Seulgi trails on with a lilt in her tone, playful and teasing,  _“And no need for sleepovers when you got a roommate to ask instead, hm?”_

 

Wendy wonders if this is what it feels like to explode and burn in the fire left in its wake. She might faint from the blazing heat that’s in her head.

 

 _“But anyways,”_  Seulgi continues, expertly avoiding the more interesting route in fear of losing Wendy from 4th degree burns.  _“Have you given her a present yet?”_

 

“A present?”

 

 _“Yeah,”_  and Wendy begins to hear the sounds of chewing. Seulgi must be eating her Pringles again,  _“Something like an appreciation gift or even a ‘welcome to being my roommate’ kind of present,”_

 

Wendy hadn’t thought of it at all, “Oh, I… I didn’t think of that,” she trails off before panic begins to seize her, eyes widening at a potential mistake on her part. “Wait, is that, um, is that part of the protocol?”

 

_“Protocol?”_

 

“Roommate protocol,”

 

Silence protrudes for a minute before Seulgi starts guffawing again, howling in laughter that Wendy sort of fears for her vocal chords.

 

She sounds like she’s crying with the way she’s sighing and giggling at the same time,  _“… Roommate protocol,”_  Seulgi snorts to herself and Wendy groans,  _“You innocent girl, it’s just an idea. You don’t actually have to,”_

 

“Oh,”

 

 _“Yup,”_  she finishes, before munching again.

 

Wendy starts thinking, and normally she would be tapping on her wristwatch by now but she doesn’t because Joohyun’s not something she’s afraid of thinking about.

 

She thinks about the way Joohyun’s always at her laptop, coffee settled beside her.

 

It clicks.

 

“Coffee,”

 

Seulgi’s chewing abruptly stops, her words jumbled by the sounds of cracking chips.  _“What?”_

 

Wendy speaks like a light bulb lit up in her head, “Coffee,” and she doesn’t wait for Seulgi to finish swallowing as she continues on, “… she’s always drinking coffee.”

 

_“… Um, okay? I do too,”_

 

Wendy stands up, setting the guitar back in her room as she keeps her phone against her ear. She checks her watch and sees it’s not too late to run to the store.

 

“No, it’s – it’s not that,” she hurries to the coatrack and worms her arms through the sleeves, “She drinks coffee every morning, but –“ Wendy twists the key on the knob so she can lock it, “ –It’s not homemade, it’s always bought,”

 

 _“Wow… that’s some active coffee lover,”_  Seulgi says, before crunching on something again,  _“I wouldn’t bother walking outside just to get coffee if I could make one on my own.”_

 

“Do you have a recommendation?” Wendy strides through the halls, pushing through the doors to chilly air, and pulls her cotton gloves out of her pockets. “I, well, I don’t drink coffee so I don’t really know which brand to get…”

 

Seulgi’s words reassure her and Wendy’s thankful her voice is louder than the suddenly pounding rhythm in her chest. She can barely hear Seulgi over the beats in her ears.

 

_“No worries, I got you!”_

 

Wendy hopes Joohyun will like it.

 

-

 

It always feels nice to submit a report.

 

Once Irene lets go of the dreaded sheets of paper stapled twice together (the first time the staple itself managed to go only through half of it due to its amount), it’s like lifting unbearable weights off her shoulders.

 

“You got the rest of the week off from lab reports, so enjoy it.”

 

Irene smiles weakly one last time to the TA, nodding at his words before walking out of his office, a sigh of relief (and dread) escaping tired lips as Irene trudges down the staircase, looking forward to spending time bonding with the sheets of her bed, and staying there.

 

December’s the time of year Irene both loved and hated; loved because she gets to cuddle in thicker blankets, and hated because it gets so cold that she needs thicker blankets. The dilemma.

 

Shoving her hands in her pockets (she regrets not bringing her gloves with her), Irene hurries back to the apartment in quick strides.

 

Normally she would have loved the thought of no reports – even for a week, but it’s the only thing that keeps her anchored when she’s too busy thinking (drinking coffee), over and over again.

 

But just like always, Irene finds herself in front of the café and not the entrance to her apartment, itching for a cup of coffee. She can’t control the need, so her legs take her to the cashier and her hands pay for the drink with a bill, before the coffee is in her hands and she’s already sipping from it.

 

Irene’s thinking again.

 

She forces herself out of the café, vaguely aware of the newly renovated space where the incident had occurred (they hadn’t bothered kicking her out permanently because they probably supported her stand too), and sucks in a breath of cold air.

 

She raises her drink, the hot liquid passing her lips and Irene lets it burn her tongue, burn through her throat, and burn her chest – burn her  _whole,_  for her weak attempt at trying to forget someone who just won’t go away.

 

Irene laughs wryly to herself, before taking another long sip, ignoring the pain of heat against fragile lips.

 

She hates coffee. But she needs it because it reminds her of  _her_  and Irene can’t bring herself to stop thinking about her, even when she shouldn’t.

 

She can’t really expect to forget the person behind the coffee – her mind at least  _tries_  to listen to her – when her body keeps craving for it.

 

Even when she thinks she’s got it down, got  _her_  out of her head and managed to move on, Irene catches herself swallowing down the dreaded drink, a cup of coffee firm within her hand. It reminds her.

 

It reminds her of the fact that she’s still looped around  _her_  finger.

 

Irene can’t remember the number of times she has moved back to square one.

 

Her body is sore from the stress she keeps (she attempts to massage her shoulder but the cup is in the way), and her mind is tired from the lack of sleep (but  _she’s_  still there, always – and she doesn’t want to sleep because she’ll dream of  _her_  and that’s even more terrifying).

 

Irene had managed to keep it from her roommate, blending the black circles under her eyes with make up and practiced expressions. She doesn’t want to burden Seungwan with her insecurities, her thoughts –  _her noises._

 

She made it through a year of sleepless nights already; another would be nothing.

 

Irene supposes, as she gulps down another batch of the hot liquid, wincing at the heat, that maybe that’s why she’s soft with Seungwan; because they both have nightmares that haunt them even outside of dreams, remaining in their minds to remind them even when the night is over.

 

She needs another anchor – a week of no reports to do is terrifying because Irene doesn’t want to let her mind wander back to coffee kisses and silly grins and keep her caged in memories that still come to torture her.

 

And then she sees Seungwan – small, gentle, careful, Seungwan.

 

How she still manages to look remotely neat in the early mornings, with small smiles and timid greetings, or in the evenings when she’s more composed, looking both sweet and confident at the same time, but equal parts tender and soft.

 

Irene can feel the curve of her lips smile into her cup.

 

Thinking of Seungwan doesn’t hurt.

 

So Irene will think of her. She will think of shy smiles and soft eyes behind curtains of hair, think of the sounds of tapping watches and clicking locks.

 

She will think of Seungwan because it doesn’t hurt, because it doesn’t twist the insides of her chest and make it churn and bleed.

 

Irene makes a detour to a restaurant she knows serves great side dishes. She hopes Seungwan doesn’t mind Chinese food (and besides, she should give the girl a break from cooking all the time).

 

_… Just think of Seungwan._

 

But as she grabs the plastic bag of takeout, Irene is still keenly aware of the cup of coffee in her other hand.

 

-

 

_"She'll like it for sure!"_

 

"How are you so sure?" she says, hanging back her jacket on the rack.

 

_"Because I like it!"_

 

Wendy laughs into the phone, and she can hear Seulgi's echo with hers as she places the present in her room.

 

"I hope so Seul,"

 

_"Let me know how it goes and we'll celebrate your new blossoming friendship!"_

 

She hears the knob rattle, the sound of the lock clicking and Wendy bids her friend a quick good bye as she hurries out, eager to greet her.

 

"Hey, I'll talk to you later, she's home."

 

 _"'Home',"_  Seulgi snickers and Wendy can feel the red on her cheeks, her neck warm that Wendy hisses into the phone to silence her.  _"Yeah yeah,_ _good luck!"_

 

Wendy shuts her phone just as Joohyun opens the door, the taller girl looking rather disheveled, hair unkempt. 

 

She hurries to her side to take the bag from her hand, surprise lining her lips at the sight of takeout.

 

"You bought food?" Wendy can feel her eyes pop out at the number of containers, Joohyun's low chuckle playing like a melody in her ears and Wendy tries not to think about the way her tousled hair looks unbelievably great on her. "And why do you look so..."

 

"…Wrecked?" Joohyun laughs as she turns the dial to place the lock, "It's really windy out, and about the food," she lends Wendy a hand with sorting out the containers, opening them one by one. "It's Friday. A great way to end the week, don’t you think?"

 

Their hands brush whenever they reach into the bag, and instinctively Wendy grasps her fingers, startled at the cold.

 

"Seungwan?" Joohyun's voice is so close to her ear, her breath tickling the fragile skin of its rim.

 

Wendy can feel the shivers run across her back, and over the beating organ beneath her chest. She attempts to ignore the way her ears are gradually heating up, ignore the way her stomach flutters as she cradles Joohyun's hand between her own.

 

"You didn't wear gloves?" She mutters as she begins to rub her hands slowly against hers, trying to bring back the warmth that's reflected in Joohyun's eyes whenever she looks at her.

 

Wendy tries not to think about the fact that this is the closest they have ever been (since the incident; since she aimed to soothe the worry in Joohyun’s eyes, since the moment on the couch), with Joohyun right in front of her again.

 

She applauds herself for not stuttering so far, but she hopes the red over her face and ears are hidden enough behind her long locks of auburn hair.

 

"Well," Joohyun starts, curling back a strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand. "I didn't think I really needed it."

 

Wendy tries not to stare between her fringe at the shaggy look Joohyun’s sporting at the moment. It doesn't work until Joohyun lifts her eyes from their hands to catch her gaze and Wendy snaps her attention back to the task in front of her.

 

"Oh, um..." Wendy trails off, keenly aware of the scrutiny burning through her bangs and forehead. "...Don’t forget to bring it next time, okay?"

 

Frankly Wendy's frightened at her own attachment towards her roommate, this odd affection she has in her for Joohyun that won't settle even in her stomach; the wings of something that won't stop flying whenever she's close or nearby, or when she's thinking of her.

 

Whenever she begins her tapping on her wristwatch, or playing with the lock, the noise - it gradually becomes just about Joohyun. Not her mom, or her dad, or her friends.

 

Sometimes when she thinks of them, pictures of long onyx hair and coy smiles -  _oh god those smiles_  - gradually cover the frame of her parents and friends instead.

 

Sometimes even Joohyun’s image changes too. One hour, it’s Joohyun with a frown lining her lips and her fingers clacking away on her laptop, the next, a lopsided smile and jumbled bed hair on Saturday mornings with a notebook in her hands, reviewing school material for the day.

 

On Sundays, Joohyun would be folding her laundry, the scent of fabric softener wafting through her nose as she greets the taller girl and makes breakfast like they've always done since they've begun the routine.

 

It has become home.

 

Joohyun curls her hand over Wendy's, squeezing gently and it stirs her from her thoughts that doesn't feel much like noise anymore.

 

"I won’t," she says and Wendy can feel the heat rise up from her neck again, "Thanks, Seungwan."

 

Her hand is back to the same warmth that's reflecting in her eyes at that moment and Wendy's words stumble out of her mouth because it renders her brain empty at the sight.

 

Wendy lets go, "Y-You're welcome," she says, inwardly scolding herself for the stutter and returns her attention back to the remaining containers still in the bag, sorting them out to distract herself from the husky chuckles beside her.

 

When she spots the cup of coffee Joohyun’s carrying in her hand, she mutters quickly,  _“Hold on,”_  and dismisses Joohyun’s  _“What is it?”_  before running to her room, remembering the gift she should be giving; excitement lining her limbs.

 

As soon as she comes back out, she meets Joohyun’s curious eyes and Wendy smiles under her gaze, feeling warm.

 

Wendy shows her the present.

 

Joohyun seems to love coffee a lot and she hopes that this will help her roommate save up some money and energy from walking all the way to a café just to get coffee every morning.

 

"Here, I - um, I figured it'd be nice, to have homemade coffee once in a while.” Wendy shuffles her feet, bringing out the gift from behind her. “You won't have to wake up so early just to buy one at the café anymore, if you'd like."

 

Joohyun looks stunned.

 

Wendy's sheepish, scratching her cheek and hides behind her fringe as she gazes at Joohyun's wide eyes.

 

"I, um, I always see you going out just to get coffee, so I figured, why not get one homebrewed?” Wendy can feel the heat rise slightly to her cheeks as she continues on, timidly staring at the lint on her feet. “Then, if I can, maybe – um, I can make you coffee. Sometime."

 

There’s only silence.

 

Tentatively, Wendy looks back up, curious as to why no sound is leaving her roommate’s mouth.

 

Joohyun looks too shocked to process what she has just said. The quiet, though usually wouldn’t bother her, is beginning to now.

 

Why is she not saying anything?

 

Wendy's slightly worried, "...Joohyun?" She calls out, brows furrowing at the way her eyes are swirling with mixtures of things she can't recognize. "Joohyun?" She tries again, looming in closer to see Joohyun look so lost, look so far off that Wendy's heart feels like it's about to jump out of her chest if she were to keep silent a second longer.

 

Wendy only feels her throat clog up further once Joohyun finally speaks up, in a voice so low and hoarse that it startles her.

 

"…Where'd you get that?”

 

She’s surprised at how Joohyun manages to sound parts broken, paralyzed, and angry, all at once. It takes the air out of Wendy’s lungs and suddenly she’s gasping for oxygen but her mouth doesn’t move.

 

They’re frozen by the sight of Joohyun’s eyes filling up; glistening with tears left unshed.

 

“…Where,” Joohyun sounds almost out of breath, her gaze hazy. “… Where did you get that?”

 

Wendy is stunned at the growl escaping from Joohyun’s lips, the animosity lining each word. But the hostility isn’t what scares her.

 

She’s too shocked to move from where she stands. The words blurt out before she can stop it.

 

“… Are you crying?”

 

The silence that follows is suffocating.

 

But Wendy’s too preoccupied with watching the tears fall from brown eyes to notice the noises are getting louder in her head. She can see the pain color Joohyun’s eyes and she wants to fix it. She wants to fix what she has just done.

 

Wendy takes a step forward, cautious in her movements, soft in her attempt.

 

Her apology is right at the tips of her lips.

 

She made Joohyun cry.

 

… _Oh god_  – she made her  _cry._

 

As if finally registering her words, Joohyun snaps out of her daze, reaching up to touch the streaks of tears that have stained her cheeks. Wendy watches with apprehension as realization begins to dawn on Joohyun’s face, from the way her eyes widen as she stares at her hand, fingers drawing remnants of the hurt that fell (and continue to fall) from pools of brown.

 

And then Joohyun was running.

 

“Joohyun?!” Wendy yelps, panic seizing her immediately, eyes barely catching the girl sprint out the door before her own legs begin to move on its own, giving chase. “Wait!” She drops the container of homebrewed coffee, vaguely hearing the resounding clank as it hits the floor.

 

Shooting off down the hall, she spots Joohyun slamming through the entrance of the apartment, and pushes her legs to move faster.

 

Wendy doesn’t want to acknowledge the panic rising in her chest, the fear creeping in from the corners of her mind. Her ears are throbbing with the beats – loud and painful and deafening – in her heart and Wendy can’t recognize the feeling in her stomach.

 

It’s not wings that are fluttering anymore.

 

Wendy ignores the fact that the wind is freezing and she had forgotten her coat. She stumbles on uneven concrete but doesn’t let it stop her momentum.

 

She doesn’t want to be left behind.

 

_She’s scared of being left behind, again._

 

“J-Joohyun!” Wendy can hear her own tears from the way her voice cracks and her throat hurts, her roommate getting farther and farther away from her; fading into streaks of grey and black.

 

_I’m sorry,_

 

She only sees blurs of red, orange, brown, yellow, and green, falling from the sky; blurs of cars and people she doesn’t care about; her sight is worsening from the way her tears ruin her vision and her chest aching for air and Joohyun.

 

_I’m sorry,_

 

Wendy hadn’t meant to cause pain in soft brown eyes; hadn’t meant to hurt the one who healed hers away.

 

_I’m so sorry._

 

The noises hurt again.

 


	3. Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy didn't think it was that late already (but perhaps that was why Joohyun bought food; for dinner) and here she was, watching her filter through into shades of grey, blur out as her feet cry for care, tiny patches of rock and dirt puddling into the scratches she knows are there.

"Joohyun!"

 

Her footfalls are heavy with dread, the echoes of slapping skin against concrete (the cuts get deeper but Wendy only feels the flesh tear further open) barely register in her head.

 

Streaks of floating orange and hues of red flitter the sky, the natural source of light gradually fading into the line beyond the streets.

 

Wendy didn't think it was that late already (but perhaps that was why Joohyun bought food; for dinner) and here she was, watching her filter through into shades of grey, blur out as her feet cry for care, tiny patches of rock and dirt puddling into the scratches she knows are there.

 

"J-Joohyun!"

 

Wendy hadn't thought about slipping her shoes on, not when the organ in her chest clenched as if roped in chains of thorns and squeezed her breath and logic away at Joohyun's hasty retreat.

 

Wendy can't erase the lines of tragedy that fell from brown eyes, can't forget the cascade over delicate pale skin, and hopes it won't be the last image of Joohyun she'll ever have in her head.

 

She wants to see tousled hair and lopsided smiles, see brightness in eyes that tell stories in puzzles and gentle touches of silk caresses and firm pillars for arms.

 

_Don't leave me,_

 

Her chest heaves at the chained weights against her heart, buckling to grasp her chest, her throat compressed by lack of air, rough and dry and tight. Wendy's breaths come out in shuddered gasps, her legs weak and wobbly of the pressure strained

 

She doesn't recognize this part of the neighborhood, the skeletons for trees arching over like towering figures, swaying in strays of falling dead leaves. Wendy can't see Joohyun anywhere, even with the streetlights splaying puddles of flickering yellow across the harsh deep shade of red skies.

 

Joohyun's name is lodged in her throat, playing as a barrier to her voice and the terror of a truth Wendy doesn't want.

 

She shrivels at the gust of air, cradles herself close at the howling wind. Her ragged breaths come out in puffs of clouds, and she coughs at the cold entering tired lungs. The lines of regret have frozen over her cheeks, her eyes still misting over with every picture of Joohyun twisting in her head.

 

_…Please,_

 

Ignoring the shots of pain from every step she takes, her flesh no doubt absorbing specks of uneven gravel, she drags herself with every breath escaping chapped lips, weak legs teetering from bursts of whistling air, the leaves dancing in scattered patterns.

 

Something sharp impales through her open skin at a single misstep, a mixture of a gasp and grunt breezing out of her throat, as her legs crumple, hands scraping deep against cold concrete.

 

Her ears pick up something loud and blaring, attempting to destroy her eardrums, the ground in tremors like tiny quakes.

 

When she manages to look up, she stills at the familiarity of a white blinding light.

 

_Don't leave me behind,_

 

The sound is getting louder, the light getting closer.

 

-

 

Irene slumps against the side of a building, her hand grazing torn wood and broken cement, attempting to restore the oxygen in her lungs.

 

_"Unnie, I don't need to add sugar."_

 

_"Why not?"_

 

Her ears are ringing in pressures of chilly gusts and memories of warm breaths. Irene's hands curl into fists – tremors of white stun her limbs and she draws blood from her lip, teeth gnawed in dry quivering flesh.

 

_"…You make bitter coffee taste sweet,"_

 

Irene swipes her fingers over the drips of red now pooling past her chin, remembering  _her_ lips ghosting over hers, the way she'd nibble on the softness in return and forget that she hates coffee more than she hates lab reports.

 

_"You look beautiful without makeup,"_

 

_"But unnie, it's the trend. And besides…"_

 

Her fingers linger over her lips, remembers the way  _her_ touches ignited a spark across like sketching tattoos, but without the pain, permanently indenting into her even when there was no visible mark left behind once the specks of lipstick faded away.

 

_"…I want to look just as pretty as you whenever we walk together outside."_

 

Irene wants it all to go away.

 

Digging into her pockets, frantic as fear lined her limbs at the nightmares plaguing her mind,  _"Unnie, cuddle?"_ Irene grabs at the box perched deep in the material, jerking it out after three attempts because of her jittery fingers, and yanks the last cigarette before dumping the box somewhere behind her.

 

She wrenches the lighter out of her other pocket, wincing at the flash of pouting lips,  _"Smoking's bad, unnie!"_ before clicking it open and starting the fire that she hopes will calm her nerves and heart.

 

Her puffs come out frayed and jagged, inhaling death as it breathes into her lungs like wisps, claws reaping at her lifeline of rhythmic beats, ripping and etching off time like an hourglass.

 

 _"How about this unnie; you smoke to forget things right?"_ Irene squeezes her eyes shut, but the image only gets clearer, _"Replace the smoking by thinking of me, okay?"_ She pushes her legs forward, shoves her weight from the wall so she can go somewhere – anywhere else to get away from the thoughts in her head. _"Could you do that for me? Please?"_

 

Irene shakes her head like it would will the noises away, will her big round eyes and cheery grin from her mind. What creeps in in  _her_ place are delicate eyes hiding behind curtains of auburn and small curves of timid lips curling upwards.

 

Fogs of smoke slip her lips, hands finally beginning to steady its hold on the cigarette as Irene wobbles towards somewhere that's really nowhere.

 

The lampposts barely shine dirty gold across the empty street; the sky a dark shade of grey going black. She hears the air whistle in her freezing ears, but the toxin in her lungs keep her body warm – hot even, and Irene just wants to tear her jacket off.

 

Every corner she makes look the same, bleary with skinny trees arching over her like an entrance to the world below.

 

She brushes over her eyes with her sleeve, still furious at the hurt that literally poured through them like a faucet and hopes that was the last of it.

 

Irene cringes at the sound of loud honks, annoyed at the obnoxious screeching of tires amidst the darkness.

 

When she turns the corner, vaguely curious of the ruckus, Irene's already dropping her cigarette as she bounds for her roommate splayed on her hands and knees waiting for the speeding deathtrap to claim her place.

 

Seungwan's name doesn't leave her lips, stuck somewhere between the pause in her chest and the ball of fear shoved in her throat.

 

Things went by so fast that Irene only registers yanking the girl towards her, roughly wondering if she had dislocated her shoulder as they tumble backwards, Seungwan's weight dropping hard against her as Irene's back slams the ground, a choked mix of a cough and grunt escaping her mouth as the air leaves her lungs, the car zooming past, the shrieking honk still going on even in the distance.

 

The impact leaves her dizzy, groaning at the cold concrete beneath her and the little lumps of rocks and gravel poking against her back. She attempts to sit up, but Seungwan's still above her, frighteningly still.

 

"Seungwan?" She rasps out, throat dry as she brushes the strands of auburn from the girl's face to check on her eyes.

 

Seungwan snaps up at her touch, her eyes no longer fogged over with streams of thoughts as she blinks her daze away. Her voice comes out equal parts unbelieving and hopeful, her touch ghosting over Irene's face as she cups her cheeks like satin sheets, smooth and feather light.

 

"… Joohyun?"

 

Her breath mingles with hers, and Irene wonders if it's some sort of dizzying spell for the way her head still feels like it's spinning. Irene only manages to nod a little, Seungwan's hold keeping her immobile for the most part.

 

– Then a speeding car flashes back into her mind and Irene is furious.

 

She grabs Seungwan's hands from her face, lifting her head up from the ground so she can stare through the suddenly wide eyes in front of her. Irene's voice comes out like a feral growl, akin to the quiet murmur of a lioness, gradually bearing teeth.

 

"What were you  _thinking?_ " She ignores the way Seungwan flinches from her tone, the words escaping her like a waterfall, her pitch rising. "Were you  _trying_  to get yourself killed?!"

 

Seungwan's meek shake of her head flushes a portion of the rage in her mind, but it doesn't stop Irene from lashing out for all the terror still lining her limbs.

 

"What did you think would've happened if I  _didn't_  make it in time?!" Irene doesn't realize her fingers are trembling until Seungwan's curling over them as if to help them stop, but she's still hysterical from the way her words stumble out of her lips like discord. "If I had just been a second later – if I had stopped somewhere along the way  _just_  to stare at a light post even –  _god,_  what did you think was going to happen?!"

 

Irene's unnerved at Seungwan's silence, so she attempts to move again until pain shoots through her back. She shuts her eyes as she drops her head back to the pavement and gives up for now, not willing to look at torn brown pools hovering over her looking as lost as she felt.

 

When droplets of something warm and wet falls onto her cheeks like beginning cascades of rain, Irene scrunches her eyes open, daring to peek to witness light auburn streaming over her face, cocooning her in like a shield so it's only the two of them – not even the stars could see.

 

Seungwan's whimper startles her, the girl's lips quivering that Irene has half a mind to brush the tremors away, but she can't when her hands are still in her grip. Seungwan brings them into her, cradling them against her chest, as if the action will keep her close.

 

"I-I'm  _sorry_  I just - I thought – I thought you…" Seungwan hiccups, choking on her tears and Irene ushers her to continue with her thumb dancing across the back of Seungwan's hand. "… I thought you left me," her words come out as hushed whispers and Irene would've missed it if not for Seungwan's bowed head so they're still breathing the same air.

 

Right. She ran –

 

_… I left her behind,_

 

– away from Seungwan.

 

_I left her to nearly get hit by a car._

 

Something tugs at her chest, coiled in ropes of a past Irene wants to forget.

 

She tries for Seungwan, bearing the ghosting nails of  _her_ kisses and touches into the farthest corner of her mind, locking it and throwing the key away because the girl needs her (needs her more than her insecurities) and because that's what roommates are for.

 

"… I'm sorry," Irene frees one of her hands to reach for her face, wiping the trails of fear on wet skin, her other clasping their fingers together, offering support unwavering unlike the swaying trees. "I didn't mean to, I –"

 

Seungwan shakes her head, "You shouldn't be – I-I should, for…" and her words end there as she trails her fingers – cold, dainty – across the wells of her eyes. Irene can hear it even when Seungwan doesn't say it from the way her touch caresses over invisible streaks long faded away.

 

_… For making you cry,_

 

Irene finds it amusing despite the circumstance how they're trying to write off the tears from each other's faces.

 

Making light of the situation, Irene prods a finger between Seungwan's furrowed brows, mimicking what the girl did to her once before, to ease the crinkles across soft skin.

 

A smile tilts her lips upwards at the lost look Seungwan is giving her.

 

"Aren't we a pair of hopeless roommates?"

 

Seungwan's laughter a second later is divine as she rubs away the remnants of mist from her puffy eyes, Irene aiding her with gentle swipes along her cheeks and jawline.

 

In Seungwan's voice lies hope with feathers for wings.

 

Irene wants her to keep it, because it sounds a lot like happiness and that shouldn't be something new to Seungwan.

 

-

 

They manage to make it back to their apartment somehow (apparently the flickering streetlights are only on their street and it played as a good marker), Joohyun setting her down from her back – Joohyun wouldn't allow her to walk back because of her lack of shoes – and despite the initial worry over Joohyun's fall,

 

 _"But what about your back Joohyun…?"_  all the girl apparently needed was a massage,  _"Good as new Seungwan, now hurry up or I'll really just leave you behind."_

 

Wendy remembers scurrying over to her as Joohyun knelt down, flushing from her roommate's chuckles as she wrapped her arms securely around her shoulders.

 

She won't admit that her favorite moment so far with Joohyun was definitely on their way home.

 

Wendy hisses at the antiseptic Joohyun pours over her feet, the taller girl wiping away any excess around the various scratches across calloused skin as Wendy sits on the edge of the tub.

 

"Now just let it dry off before putting the bandage on okay?"

 

Wendy snaps up at Joohyun's rising form, "Where are you going?" she doesn't mean to let the panic tinge her voice, the fear beginning to claw up her throat again.

 

Joohyun tousles Wendy's hair, and the terror draws back into the depths.

 

"I want to cool the heat off first," Joohyun says, gesturing to herself but Wendy knows vaguely what she's referring to.

 

 _She smoked,_ Wendy remembers, Joohyun's breath mingling with lines of a cigarette when they had been close enough to count the specks that makeup barely touched on each other's faces. Wendy could've sworn she saw dark circles beneath the wells of brown eyes.

 

"At least keep your coat," Wendy says and begins to remove the apparel (Joohyun had leant it to her on their way back) but Joohyun raises a hand, shooing her away with a curve of her lips.

 

"Just hold onto it, I won't be long."

 

Wendy wants to wait it out with Joohyun.

 

Her hesitation plays with the gears in her limbs (even when she's still immobile), half staggering towards her but the other twisting away like faltering November leaves. Wendy doesn't want to intrude once she sees Joohyun turn her back on her, walking off through the bathroom door.

 

Wendy wants to know what she's thinking, but Joohyun won't be telling her (eventually, maybe) so she settles in her spot, leaning her back against the square-tiled wall, lets her feet heal for the time being.

 

She holds onto Joohyun's jacket, cradled against her chest, the scent of lavender and vanilla still wafting her senses, creeping into her mind so it could embed itself in her memory.

 

_"… Am I heavy?" Wendy remembers asking Joohyun on the way back, makes sure her arms don't squeeze too tightly around the girl's neck. "You can put me down, um – I can handle it."_

 

_Joohyun's grunt lets her know the lie that spills from her lips._

 

_"You're as light as an obese hamster,"_

 

_"I… I don't know if that's a good thing,"_

 

_"Good, now while you go think about that for the next few minutes –" Joohyun grunts again, readjusts her hold, hoisting her up so she can better grip Wendy's legs. " – Let me save some breaths for energy okay?"_

 

_Wendy remembers burying her face against onyx hair, resting her cheek against Joohyun's small shoulder. The red made it up to her ears, Wendy knew, and whispered her thanks, meek and grateful._

 

_"… Okay," she took the silence to add more, gripping Joohyun close, "Sorry…"_

 

_"Don't be," Joohyun paused for a moment, Wendy nuzzling deeper as the cold breezed through like a roaring tide. "Or else I should be apologizing too for making you cook all the time. Now," Wendy felt Joohyun's fingers curl tighter around her legs, making the flames across already burned skin flame brighter. "I'm going to keep quiet and if you want to talk, just talk." Wendy froze up at Joohyun's head turning to look at her, "I'm always listening,"_

 

_Joohyun's breath ghosting over her lips had to be a sin. After all, it would explain the sudden desire to lean in and just kiss her._

 

She feels the cool air drift over her wounded skin, and wraps the bandages over delicate injuries.

 

Wendy only makes it to the living room, splaying herself across the couch – half because she wants to wait for Joohyun and the other because she can't be in her room knowing Joohyun's not in hers.

 

Her feet still has tickles of pain coursing through whenever she takes a step, and it encourages Wendy to just lie there on the sofa, not moving an inch. She pulls Joohyun's jacket over herself to play as a makeshift blanket, willing her eyes to stay open.

 

_"… I like it," Wendy had begun her little 'talk' as they trekked amidst dry leaves crunching beneath Joohyun's black converse. "That you call me 'Seungwan'… not that 'Wendy' is bad or anything – it's just," she felt Joohyun nod along, listening from the way strands of onyx poured over her shoulder. "… It's good to hear 'Seungwan', once in awhile."_

 

A few minutes in and Wendy's eyes already begin to droop, the room fading away into blurs of grey in the dim landscape, the moon's ray of light filtering through the slits of the windowsill.

 

_"… I wanted to wish for someone who could listen to me, even when I couldn't handle listening to myself," Wendy said, hearing Joohyun hum, ushering her to continue. Wendy smiled into her hair, breathed her in, "… but I was afraid of making up hope for something I knew wouldn't come true."_

 

She manages another minute longer through the counts in her head;  _one, two, three…_  until the curtains finally close and her breaths come out steady.

 

_Her nose nuzzled the space between Joohyun's shoulder and jawline, where the contour led to her ear; attempting to hide her face even when Joohyun couldn't see her anyway._

 

_"And then you came; sweet, quiet, playful – and true."_

 

_She felt Joohyun smile against her cheek._

 

Wendy sleeps dreaming caresses of vanilla and tender lavender.

 

-

 

Irene locks the door behind her, twisting the knob before turning around just to pause near the doorway, a lump settled across the couch.

 

She attempts to check it over, before her foot knocks into something and it clanks, rolling off in murmurs of bumps against the wooden floor.

 

Coffee.

 

Irene cradles the container between shaky hands, remembering how  _she_ had preferred this particular brand over anything else. How the aroma wafted through her nose whenever they shared silly kisses and hushed whispers.

 

_"Then, if I can, maybe – um, I can make you coffee. Sometime."_

 

Seungwan.

 

She wants to throw it away, get it out of her home, and make it disappear out of her life for good. But –

 

Irene kneels in front of the quiet figure, recognizing her grey jacket playing as a shield for Seungwan as she slumbers, breathing slow and steady. She brushes away light auburn so it curls over Seungwan's ear, sees the way Seungwan's face is relaxed and it settles the tremor in Irene's chest, keeps memories locked for just a little longer.

 

– She won't throw away Seungwan's effort.

 

Making sure her jacket covers the girl completely, Irene turns around so she won't stare longer than she should at how the moonlight collapses over Seungwan like filtering spot lights, her face a stage.

 

She settles herself with her back against the sofa on the ground, head right beside Seungwan's as Irene places the homebrew coffee and her newly opened box of cigarettes next to her on the floor. She doesn't mind the dark room, allowing the natural light to seep through in slits from the window, providing a somber view amidst the quiet.

 

Irene doesn't want to sleep. Not when dreams are entrances to the past she wants to forget.

 

_"And then you came; sweet, quiet, playful – and true."_

 

She smiles at the way Seungwan had pressed against her neck, heat emitting from her face that Irene didn't need to imagine the blush seeping into her own skin.

 

_"Unnie, kiss me?"_

 

Irene squeezes her eyes shut, clasping her head in shaking hands and tries to will away  _her_ voice. She slumps over so her knees provide support over her exhausted form, fingers digging hard into her scalp.  _Don't think. Don't think. Don't think._ Irene can feel strands of hair peel across her nails.

 

_"… 'Irene' unnie,"_

 

_"Why 'Irene'?"_

 

 _Biting of_ her _lips, big eyes twinkling in melodies of twilight._

 

_"Because unnie, you bring me peace."_

 

Stop thinking,

 

_"… I wanted to wish for someone who could listen to me, even when I couldn't handle listening to myself,"_

 

Seungwan.

 

_"… but I was afraid of making up hope for something I knew wouldn't come true."_

 

Just think of Seungwan.

 

Irene repeats the name again and again in her head –  _Seungwan, Seungwan_ – like a mantra that would ward off the claws of  _her_ from her mind. She doesn't want to see  _her_ again once her eyes close completely and the erratic beats of her heart steady to a quiet calm.

 

So she cradles herself, rocking in rhythm to the hum of Seungwan's voice, willing her roommate's to overpower in sound from  _her's._ Irene doesn't want to sleep – she can't.

 

She doesn't want her dreams to give false wings to hope.

 

-

 

Wendy almost gets a heart attack.

 

As soon as she realizes the head of black hair is remaining still, near from where she just slept, Wendy lets her chest settle to a softer thrum, gradually unclenching jittery fingers from her navy blue sweater as the breaths come out slower in smaller puffs.

 

Wendy's so relieved when she peers closer to see Joohyun instead of the infamous horror movie character she loathed so much, slumping against the cushion of the sofa to let her mind sink reality back in.

 

Sunlight casted gold in shattered rays, cascading in a way that keeps the room half lit in calm, suitable for a morning that's not too bright.

 

Wendy shuffles over, watches the way puddles of light hover across Joohyun's face, kissing skin like brushes painting over empty canvas.

 

Joohyun's slumped against the bottom of the sofa, head lolled back and face partially covered in onyx strands disarrayed. Her lips are slightly parted, brows crinkled like pain painted her expression, chest rising and falling in rhythm to every wisps of breath escaping her throat like whispers.

 

As soon as it fully registers, Wendy hurries to her bedroom (ignoring the minute pains coursing from her feet), pulling out the fluffiest pillow she owns and lays it out beside her. Carefully, she guides Joohyun so she lies down flat across the wooden floor, head safely cushioned against the cyan pillow.

 

Wendy removes the jacket around herself to splay it over the slumbering owner, tucking it right beneath Joohyun's chin and patting it down so it keeps her warm.

 

Once Joohyun looks comfortable in her new position, Wendy settles across her, watching the patterned rise and falls of her chest. Her hand crawls up to her left wrist, feeling the cool leather and glass of her watch; her finger begins its morning ritual.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – three,_

 

Why didn't Joohyun sleep in her room? Was she too tired to walk all the way there?

 

_But it only takes ten steps – depending on the distance of each stride so at max; fifteen – to get to either room from the door._

 

Perhaps Joohyun didn't mean to fall asleep there?

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – twelve,_

 

Wendy winces at portions of light hitting her eye as she tries to move, spotting the reflection made by the plastic seal of a cigarette box (right next to the coffee brew). She crawls towards them, taking them into her hands and lets regret pile up in her chest like mountains.

 

She shouldn't have gone along with Seulgi's suggestion. If it weren't for her idea of giving Joohyun a present (Wendy won't admit that the coffee idea belonged to her – she  _can't_ ), then none of those things would've –

 

_"I'm always listening," Joohyun said, voice warm, soft, gentle._

 

– none of them would've happened.

 

Wendy slumps against the bottom of the couch, noticing the ripped tear of a portion of the plastic seal on the box of cigarettes (she's not surprised to recognize the container from earlier). She remembers the line of gold strip across the bottom; Joohyun really does smoke.

 

It bothers her a little, knowing Joohyun's allowing poison into her body. But Wendy also knows they're not close enough to talk about things like that – things like what makes them hurt.

 

She rests her head back like Joohyun did before, settling the items back beside her before wincing at the stream of light hitting her face again. It reminds her.

 

Bright light. Wendy doesn't know why it feels familiar to her, like she's seen it somewhere before, but she knows it's part of a memory she can't remember. Is it even important?

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – twenty._

 

Wendy hears Joohyun stir, the girl nuzzling further into her cyan pillow before stilling again. A smile paints itself across her lips, and softly, Wendy reaches out to stroke Joohyun's temple, leaves smooth caresses like brushes of a picture and feels affection rise up her chest at Joohyun's instinctive reflex to shuffle closer to her hand.

 

Wendy keeps her fingers there, massaging gently like small tides washing over the shoreline, noting the slight curl at the corners of Joohyun's lips and the fading crinkles between her brows.

 

Time slips from her like ghost feathers with every caress of her hand, the sunlight rising, rays burning brighter; but it feels sort of like forever and Wendy's afraid to know it will still end.

 

So she keeps herself deathly silent (keeps from making any sound), and lets Joohyun sleep under tender touches, brushing the dry blood stained on her bottom lip (she must've bit it). It won't be forever, but it'll be close enough.

 

-

 

It's the last day of November.

 

Wendy's waiting for Seulgi to pick up the homebrew (she managed to keep it from Joohyun's sight in case it triggered something in the raven-haired again) as she strums the strings of her guitar in the living room.

 

Her fingers have plucked a melody Wendy knows isn't in any song she's heard so far, but sounds familiar enough that it rattles the chains in her heart. She's trying to figure out the chords, but only some of them sound right so far.

 

She can hear the thrumming of the shower, and Wendy tries not to think anything further than the doorway to the bathroom knowing Joohyun's in there.

 

Wendy jumps at the sudden rasps of knocks, banging the bottom of her classical guitar against the floor before hurrying to the door, settling the instrument in its stand by the coatrack.

 

"Hey, Wendy!"

 

She chokes in Seulgi's bone-crushing hug, but the warmth is overflowing and Wendy grasps out weakly in return, clutching at her back, smiling into her close friend's shoulder knowing this was the closest she'll ever get to hugging a bear.

 

"H-Hi, Seul – now, um, can I breathe?" Her voice comes out in muffled gasps before breathing in lungful air at Seulgi's sheepish release.

 

Seulgi giggles, "Sorry, I just – well, haven't seen you in awhile." She says before ruffling Wendy's hair, affectionate. "Now as cheap as this sounds, where's the coffee?"

 

Wendy laughs as she leads her in, ushering her towards the couch as she fishes for the coffee brew hidden in her room. She can still hear the shower running even when she's in the sanctuary of her bedroom and Wendy wonders when the sound of streaming water started getting loud enough to not strain her ears to hear for it anymore.

 

"Here, all yours." She says, tossing it towards the girl, Seulgi happily catching it with ease of both hands.

 

Seulgi cradles the container like it's her baby. "Don't know why your roommate doesn't like it, but I'm not complaining!" She coos as Wendy settles to sit beside her. "Where is she, anyway?"

 

"Showering," Wendy doesn't want to know why she's flushing at her own answer. It was the truth anyway.

 

Seulgi wiggles her brows, "Ooh, are you planning to join her once I –"

 

"Seulgi!" Wendy yelps, hiding behind her hands as Seulgi's chortle crackles in the air. "No – she's just, we're – um,"

 

"'We're'?"

 

The red across her cheeks shouldn't be getting any redder but it is and Wendy can feel it bleed out in smokes of heat between her fingers.

 

"W-we're going shopping together so it's – it's nothing like that!"

 

"Did you shower yet, Wendy?" Wendy misses the way Seulgi's eyes glint in glee as Wendy peeks between the spaces of her fingers.

 

"Um, no, but why would that –"

 

"Then go hop in so you have more shopping time together!" Seulgi earns herself a hard slap on her shoulder that the girl nearly drops the coffee brew cradled in her arms. "… You're so abusive,"

 

Wendy snorts, crossing her arms. "Yeah well, you deserve it okay –"

 

"Then I'll have to let your roommate know about this!"

 

Seulgi rises to stand and Wendy jumps at the lacking sound of running water. Joohyun.

 

"W-What?! NO!" Almost as if possessed by emotions Wendy can't discern – fear, anxiety, panic, maybe (why was she so frantic anyway?) – she shoves Seulgi towards the doorway, urging her to leave.

 

It's almost like she's afraid of Seulgi stealing Joohyun away.

 

Seulgi takes her jostling nerves for embarrassment, "Are you that nervous about your roommate, Wen?" She tousles her hair again, clutching the brew in her free arm. "Relax, I'll leave you two alone for some bonding time." Wendy can feel guilt scratch the walls of her throat as Seulgi smiles, "But one day, I'm going to have to interrogate her to make sure she's treating you right, okay?"

 

Wendy nods, an apology written across her lips. "Seul, I'm sorry I just –"

 

Seulgi curls locks of auburn from Wendy's face, behind her ear so her eyes show clear.

 

"Do you look at her with eyes like that, Wen?"

 

Wendy's brows furrow, loose strands falling over as she tilts her head to the side.

 

"Like what?"

 

Seulgi grins, Wendy keenly aware of an opening door and shuffling footsteps across the floor; creaks of wood squeaking in her ears. Joohyun's done.

 

She leans in to her ear and whisper words akin to the lyrics transcribed between the beats in her chest.

 

"Like a love letter?"

 

_"Seungwan?"_

 

Wendy jolts at the sound of her name, Joohyun's voice a signature rasp, husky lined with quiet strength as Seulgi winks at her before she starts off down the hall. No words form in response, lips opening and clicking close as Seulgi turns to give a wave,  _"See you!"_ before disappearing behind double doors.

 

"Seungwan?" Wendy snaps at attention as Joohyun stands beside her, rubbing a towel through her hair. "What are you doing?"

 

She sees specks of water droplets cascading down the arches of her neck, over the bumps of her collarbone before disappearing under a black tank top.

 

Wendy stumbles backwards, words staggering out of her lips like broken cracks on pavement. She's suddenly drenched in emotions that feel like she's known them all along but the words are blaringly bright across her heart and the sounds are loud in her head.

 

"I-I, I gotta go take a shower – yeah, um, I'll go do that now –"

 

Wendy trips on strings of Seulgi's voice,  _"Like a love letter,"_  and Joohyun's grip is tight on her upper arm, keeping her steady.

 

"Hey, are you okay?" Joohyun's bending her head so she can see her eyes, but Wendy keeps them hidden behind her fringe.

 

"Yeah – yeah, I'm fine just –" Wendy says in murmurs, releasing Joohyun's grip with jittery fingers (she hopes Joohyun can't feel them tremor). "– Just wait for me, I'll, uh – I'll be quick."

 

Wendy manages to make it to the bathroom in record time, making sure the lock is turned (ten times as opposed to the normal thirty-three; she convinced herself it was really locked) before sliding down against the door and cradling her head in shaky hands.

 

She hears Joohyun's footsteps nearing the doorway, soft and tentative. Wendy knows she wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the fact that she was sitting against the door. Wendy waits and holds her breath when she feels Joohyun stall there; perhaps she forgot something?

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – three,_

 

Wendy doesn't know what's taking Joohyun so long, and she almost calls out to ask before her footsteps start again and it fades away into the distance, creaking wood falling faint.

 

Even when she knows Joohyun's nowhere near her now, it doesn't calm the pulsating drums in her ears, the rattling chains tied around the beating organ beneath her chest clinking harsh and loud.

 

Wendy rubs at her eyes, willing to wipe the letter away – she can't let Joohyun see, could she? – and clenches at her sweater where her heart lies to hush its pounding thrum.

 

Has Joohyun already seen it though? But how long has her eyes carried the words to the lyrics of the song she's been trying to figure out?

 

Wendy hopes the water will help calm the shuddering nerves; wash away the words from her eyes.

 

She can't let Joohyun know, not when all this time the tattered words she's seen in Joohyun's soft brown eyes has been a letter of her own.

 

How can she look at Joohyun now?

 

-

 

Seungwan looks like Seungwan from the first day she moved into the apartment.

 

Shuffling feet, eyes hiding behind auburn fringe, stuttering lips, and ticking wristwatches, as they walk through the mall.

 

Irene keeps her attention on Seungwan trailing beside her, oddly quiet (quieter than usual) with curtains of hair shielding her face, her figure slumped like she's afraid to be seen.

 

It bothers her.

 

Irene tugs at Seungwan's hand, "Want to go home?" she asks, close enough to the shorter girl's ear so that she could hear amidst the cluster of people chattering like audio plaque.

 

Seungwan jolts in her grip (a mere clasp of the ends of her fingers) and gazes up at her before immediately staring back down like she's afraid to look at her. Irene can feel her lips jutting out, forming a frown.

 

"Is there something wrong?" Irene crinkles her brows at Seungwan's vehement shake of her head, hair waving in array of scattered tendrils. She tugs at meek fingers, curling hers between the spaces of Seungwan's, filling them in. "Come on, how about we go eat instead? My treat,"

 

She drags Seungwan out of the mall, guiding her through crowds and out into the open. Irene can feel Seungwan tighten their fingers together and it makes her smile as they walk onto the busy streets.

 

It's nighttime, the lights from lampposts acting as maps for the bustling clusters of people flitting about in ray of streams, spilling hues of yellow and white across various stands.

 

The moon is full, providing a natural shade of light as they walk past the hustling crowds, allowing the sounds of chatter to fall into a shimmer of soft murmurs not blaringly loud.

 

Irene recognizes the makeup stand,  _"Unnie, red lipstick makes me look mature doesn't it? And it looks great on your cheek!"_

 

"Joohyun?"

 

Irene blinks away the image reel from her eyes, "Y-yeah?" she says, her throat suddenly stuffy at the memory of plump lips on her skin.

 

Seungwan points up and Irene sees snowflakes cascade down from starry skies, twinkling in shimmers that it momentarily keeps Irene in awe as snow silvers down like rain; gradually washing the neon colors of yellow lampposts off into specks of twinkling white.

 

"I sometimes get carried away when I watch them fall," Seungwan says beside her, their fingers clutching loosely together. "They make the noises disappear,"

 

Irene tilts her head as Seungwan continues keeping her gaze upwards.

 

"Are they gone?" She asks, squeezing gently so the cold doesn't flit between the spaces of their hands.

 

Seungwan looks like she's about to turn her head to look at her before her gaze settles for the ground instead, dusts of shiny white stuck in crevices of the sidewalk.

 

"I… I don't know if…"

 

"… If?" Irene parrots, urging her out of her circle of hesitation.

 

Irene catches a glimpse of Seungwan's eyes before she stares back at the spots of snow on her brown boots, but the swirling loops painting across brown pools make her dizzy.

 

Seungwan tugs Irene closer, as if shy at the confession but Irene's not sure why her pull loosens the grip of  _her_ nails from her heart.

 

"… If I even want the noises to go away," Irene has to strain her ears as Seungwan's voice trails into quiet murmurs. "… What does it mean if I don't want them to?"

 

"Do they hurt you?" Irene asks, bending to meet Seungwan's avoidant gaze. "When you hear the noises; does it hurt?"

 

"… No," her timid voice squeaks out, but Irene can see Seungwan's eyes between curtains of auburn. They look lost, nervous – unsure, but hopeful.

 

Irene doesn't know why she does it, but she eases Seungwan's lip from being harshly bit, rubbing a thumb over the indent so Seungwan would release the poor flesh from gnawing teeth.

 

"Then it means it's okay to think about it, whatever it is."

 

They continue on their trek for dinner, hands cradled together like they're sewn there. Irene takes Seungwan's sudden closeness (a hand encircled around her arm) and cheek pressed against her shoulder as a sign that they're okay, since she could see Seungwan's eyes again.

 

Irene likes her eyes, even when they're misted in colors and waves of things Irene can't distinguish, because it patches the scars  _her_ nails leave across her torn chest like bandages, healing and shielding.

 

-

 

Wendy wonders if Joohyun skips sleep.

 

It's already 4 AM (she needed the bathroom because it's so cold now considering snow was sticking to stay and she was freezing in her bed) and Joohyun's fingers continue to click away on her keyboard, typing like her brain still works properly at such an ungodly hour.

 

Wendy would have thought it to be normal if it weren't for the laptop's screen light beaming across Joohyun's face. She's baffled at how she missed the dark wells looming down like dripping honey beneath pressed makeup. Or maybe the circles have darkened enough that makeup couldn't hide them much anymore.

 

Wendy aims to remedy that – if only for one night.

 

"Um… Joohyun?"

 

"Hm?" Joohyun responds distractedly, fingers dabbing at the keys in rhythm as Wendy goes through the script and motions in her head.

 

They had dinner together just several hours ago, and the first snowfall was as amazing as it had been a year ago (she would have never anticipated sharing it with a person who understood her), though it did nothing to quell the thrumming sounds in her ears and chest; remaining as loud as they were the minute Seulgi gave her heart away.

 

It hasn't really settled in yet; these… noises (she wants to say feelings but it numbs her tongue and the word doesn't leave her lips). They're out in the open, in the nooks and cranny of her mind, coloring behind her eyes in warmth and relief of finally understanding why she yearns to just be close to Joohyun and never let go.

 

It still scares her, how her want sometimes feel like need. She finds herself unable to discern the two at times whenever Joohyun smiles her way, and Wendy wonders if feeling so anxious yet happy is something healthy to keep.

 

She knew Joohyun couldn't read the letter from her eyes, considering the way she still looks at her like things are the same, even when they aren't anymore (Wendy herself has changed, but she's not sure if it's for the better).

 

She twiddles with her fingers, shuffling closer to the busy girl and hopes she's convincing enough.

 

_It takes five seconds to get comfortable, twenty seconds to register the heat, thirty-five seconds to know it's not going anywhere, and sixty seconds to fall asleep._

 

"I – um, I know we're not really, um – that close and…" Wendy is marveled at her false bravado, keeping it going as Joohyun looks up from her computer. "… I know a blanket is naturally, well, more practical,"

 

"… That's why there are such things as blankets." Joohyun says matter-of-factly, but her tone doesn't imply any hostility towards the incoming suggestion.

 

Wendy pouts a little, but it doesn't stop her from her script, keeping her façade of nervous limbs and stuttering lips (were they just pretend though?) as she glances at Joohyun's dark circles to continue on.

 

"… But because I don't get, well, warm enough with just a blanket, can I…" Joohyun raises a brow, ushering her to continue, and Wendy blushes at the steady gaze Joohyun is giving her. "…C-can I hold onto you?" She doesn't mean to stutter then (it's not part of her impromptu speech) but she's inwardly proud of her masked display.

 

 _"And no need for sleepovers when you got a roommate to ask instead, hm?"_ Seulgi's voice plays in her head, teasing and playful.

 

Joohyun blinks, trying to process the innocent request. Her voice comes out curious, glancing at the thermostat near the doorway.

 

"Is the heater not on?"

 

"I-It is, I'm just – well, really sensitive."

 

The taller girl speaks once the gears turn in her head. "...Why not just use your portable heater?"

 

She remembers Joohyun prodding her about the item, amusement lining her lips as Wendy struggled to mention about being easily cold during the winter (she was just so embarrassed).

 

Wendy shakes her head, "It's… It's not good enough," she mutters, fiddling with her fingers and stares at a small speck of dust around the edges of her desk chair.

 

Joohyun hums, contemplating, "…So you want us to sleep together,"

 

Wendy sputters a response akin to the jitters in her heart and she's not sure why it's still doing that.

 

"J-J-Just for sixty seconds –"

 

Joohyun quirks a brow, "A minute?"

 

"S-same thing," Wendy mumbles shyly, well aware of the skeptical stare Joohyun is giving her at the moment.

 

The plan of having soft brown eyes rest keeps her going; it can't be healthy to lose sleep, not when the marks are visible under her eyes.

 

Wendy tries not to stare at the corners of Joohyun's lips that begin to curve upwards. Joohyun prods on steadily, almost amusedly,

 

"... And do what?" Her question is innocent yet teasing; amusement lining her mouth and Wendy drops her gaze back to the ground because she can't level with Joohyun's eyes. It's daunting.

 

Wendy begins to play with the ends of her sleeves, her fringe acting as a hood for her expression and she's thankful it covers her from Joohyun's curious sight.

 

She mumbles beneath her breath and Joohyun has to motion closer to catch the rest of her sentence. "I-It takes sixty seconds - a minute - to make me warm and fall asleep,"

 

"That's..." Wendy lifts her head enough so that she can peek through her bangs, "… that's actually pretty fast," Joohyun says simply, and Wendy almost sighs in relief at the lack of hostility.

 

_Joohyun needs sleep._

 

Wendy clears her throat before reiterating her request, hiding behind curtains of light auburn when Joohyun directs her gaze back to her. "…Which is why, um, if it's not too much to ask," Wendy looks at her wristwatch for support, its presence helping anchor her down. "… I want you to hold me," she forces the blush to stay beneath her teal sweater, not rising any farther up than her collarbone (hopefully).

 

Joohyun hums again, "Until you fall asleep?" she asks thoughtfully, a finger tapping lightly against her chin.

 

"…Yes," Wendy's not sure whether she should add onto it to tilt it fully towards her favor – she should though, because Joohyun doesn't look like she's going to give in – and hopes all will go well. "… Please?"

 

… She immediately regrets it because it comes out as a pathetic squeak instead.

 

Wendy flushes the brightest red she has compared to her colorful wardrobe and buries her face in shaky hands (keeping it from her face never works). She hopes her hair helps with covering her flaring shame that's coloring her cheeks.

 

She's so embarrassed and was already more than halfway through her apology speech that was being computed in her head that Wendy jumps at the gentle pressure pressing down on her head.

 

Wendy hesitates to look up (because what if the red is still on her face?) that she doesn't realize the older girl's hand is patting her crown until Joohyun's voice drives away the nerves in her fingers and the tremors go louder in her heart.

 

"Okay," It was as simple as Joohyun herself; the gentle lilt lining her tone so well that Wendy forgets the rest of her script.

 

Stumbling over words that normally come as easily as counting the ticks in her head, Wendy manages to shield her face from Joohyun's amused gaze as she reaches up to take a hold of the taller girl's hand.

 

Wendy's grateful and relieved and thankful and apologetic – because Joohyun has to deal with someone as difficult as  _her_ and that's not okay (especially on a daily basis) – and just a bunch of things, that the sounds that come out of her mouth become a jumbled mess of syllables and slurred words and that's not how she should be thanking her, so Wendy's stuttering apologies again.

 

Even if at the root of it all it's just so Joohyun would sleep.

 

"Thank you, and – um, I'm sorry for this, really! I hope I'm not intruding or anything because – well, you're the first person who's willing to deal with living with me and I know people don't tolerate me for very long so I promise I'll stay out of your way so thank you and I'm sorry again –"

 

_It's not part of the script, so what is she doing –_

 

"You're welcome," Wendy barely registers the quiet reply until Joohyun tugs back her hand gently, but not enough that Wendy has to let it go. "You're welcome," Joohyun says again, softly but firmly, lowering her head so she is eye level with Wendy's. "…You're welcome, Seungwan."

 

Wendy doesn't know how the repeated phrase can carry so much meaning to her, how it can tell her  _"You're welcome, don't apologize, I'm here, don't worry,"_ and everything else in between from the way Joohyun's lips are curved upwards with a smile that's warm and gentle to her eyes that are tender and soft.

 

Joohyun's hand is still cradled between her fingers, and Wendy looks down to stare at her own hands stilled from their normal tremor. Droplets of something warm and wet begin to fall onto her fingers that Wendy hasn't registered what was happening until her tears are being wiped away.

 

_Why was she even crying? This wasn't part of the script –_

 

"…Sorry," She shakes her head quickly at Joohyun's unnecessary apology, but stops when Joohyun cradles the space behind her ear and to her jaw and neck with her free hand.

 

Her thumb is wiping off the stains left on her cheek that Wendy settles her gaze downwards to avoid such undivided attention. It doesn't work because a second later Joohyun is leveled with her, trying to peek from under her messy fringe as she silently continues to dry the water beneath her eyes.

 

Joohyun's so persistent. It reminds her of that night, where fear laced Joohyun's voice,  _"Were you trying to get yourself killed?!"_  the screeching of tires fading into nothing.

 

Wendy vaguely wonders if the letter is still written across her eyes. She hopes Joohyun can't read it.

 

Once they're settled into her bed, Wendy isn't sure how to reach out to her. And maybe Joohyun has a knack of understanding her body language that the taller girl catches on and pulls the smaller girl towards her, arms secured around her waist that Wendy can feel the warmth seep through.

 

_It takes five seconds to get comfortable,_

 

Wendy thinks it's automatic, but she's not really counting anymore as she reaches the front of Joohyun's black sweater.

 

_Twenty seconds to register the heat,_

 

It plays like a record player in her head, timidly shifting forward so she can hug the girl better.

 

_Thirty-five seconds to know it's not going anywhere,_

 

Joohyun's soft chuckles tickle her forehead (did she just say it out loud?), and Wendy is starting to like resting against the crook of her neck.

 

_And sixty seconds to fall asleep,_

 

Wendy remembers vividly, and her eyes flutter shut at the warmth of her hold.

 

Joohyun's rhythmic heart is the only thing she can hear now, and Wendy likes the sound of it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so 'she'/'her' was not revealed here (I was planning to but then it felt a little too fast) so I figured to delay it to next chapter instead – considering this is already more than long enough. Hopefully the hints I've thrown here give you a clearer picture of who it may be.
> 
> And here it is; fluff – or at least, my version of it, as well as a closer look of what goes on in their heads.


	4. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy wakes up wearing happiness on her lips.

Wendy wakes up wearing happiness on her lips.

 

Her mouth curls up at the corners, creasing curves as she takes in the scent of lavender and vanilla, eyes fluttering open at the warmth of Joohyun’s arms around her.

 

She recognizes the morning hue from the rays of sunlight pooling over the contours of Joohyun’s neck, coloring her in kisses of gold and yellow. The softness of Joohyun’s collarbone plays as a resting place for Wendy’s lips, pressing fleeting touches across the skin despite not meaning to.

 

Wendy should be startled by the want crawling up her chest, clawing in streaks of need and desire, leaving stripes in shades of Joohyun’s touch; the taller woman’s fingers curling gently against her back.

 

She should be ignoring this feeling – pretending it doesn’t unlatch a gate filled with pictures of Joohyun, clustering her mind in images of Cheshire smiles and tiny strong hands.

 

Wendy can’t stop the grin writing across her face at Joohyun’s instinctive urge to hold her tighter – can’t stop her own fingers from clutching at Joohyun’s back, the woman’s sweater filling the spaces between them.

 

There’s a lot of things she should and shouldn’t be doing – things she should and shouldn’t be feeling.

 

Wanting this – was she wanting Joohyun? – falls further than that; somewhere between the lyrics in her chest and the noises in her head. Wendy doesn’t remember feeling this way – doesn’t remember ever thinking this way.

 

Since when did she start craving for someone’s touch?

 

Wendy pulls away – far enough that she can unlatch her arms (but Joohyun won’t have to) yet still close so that she could tangle her fingers in Joohyun’s hair, playing with the strings of soft ebony.

 

She should ask Joohyun for her shampoo; it’s so silky that Wendy loses track of time flitting her hand between the tresses; letting them cascade across her skin in streaks, soft like clouds – almost fleeting.

 

Joohyun doesn’t stir from her sleep even when Wendy’s fingers leave her hair to draw gentle caresses over her face; her fingertips leaving invisible trails over Joohyun’s brows, the arch of her cheek, the contour of her jawline, to the lines of her lips.

 

Wendy forgets they’re merely roommates – that they haven’t even broken the walls that shield them both from a past looming over their shoulders like boulders; crushing their postures in weights of ghost words and phantom hands, as she glides her thumb above Joohyun’s bottom lip, tracing the outline in small circles.

 

It doesn’t take much effort for Wendy to notice that there are missing pieces to a puzzle in Joohyun – how her eyes color a darker shade of chestnut whenever she drinks coffee; far away like she’s lost in another world and Wendy can’t reach her, or when they spend time together, eating or folding laundry; her pools of brown clear and open, warm like sun kissed sand.

 

Wendy wonders if she’s just as transparent – maybe that’d be why Joohyun sometimes just looks at her, words silenced on Wendy’s lips from her stare. Almost like Joohyun was searching for something; maybe putting pieces to a puzzle? Maybe even reading the letter in her eyes.

 

Wendy finds herself drawn in Joohyun’s successive breaths, her breathing humming to the tune in her chest, puffs of life threading out in wisps between parted lips.

 

She stops as soon as their air begins to mingle together, mists of Joohyun’s beating heart teasing Wendy’s mouth, cradling her lips like a magician’s hands, hypnotizing.

 

Wendy wants to know how love tastes like.

 

… Love?

 

Wendy pulls away – frantic like electricity thrums through her veins, jolting her back far enough so Joohyun’s lips don’t bring her in again – so her breaths don’t taint her mind, cradle it like delicate porcelain. She feels Joohyun’s arms still looped around her hips, the tips of her roommate’s fingers lingering over her sides.

 

Is it love? Wendy doesn’t know much about it – doesn’t have much experience with feelings pertaining to faster heartbeats and fluttering wings in her stomach. But maybe Seulgi already gave her the answer, “Like a love letter,”

 

Whatever love she’s learned, it’s in the way Seulgi keeps her company, holds her hand when they hangout together, and laughs along to jokes Wendy attempts to make even if they both know it’s not that funny. “That’s why I laugh,” she remembers Seulgi say, how her friend’s eyes crinkle at the corners, curving into crescents. “… Because it’s not funny.”

 

Could she call this love too? How she craves to touch Joohyun, hold her hand, keep her close, kiss her lips, and put the puzzle in sad eyes back together again?

 

Wendy freezes up when Joohyun snuggles closer, pulling her back into her vortex of lavender and vanilla, Joohyun’s lips pressing against her collarbone, her breaths smothering her skin in red, making Wendy blush up to the tips of her ears.

 

Joohyun’s nose bumps gently against her neck and it makes the walls tighten in Wendy’s throat, closing up and drowning her in tremors of emotions she’s attempting to bury deep in her chest. Wendy can smell her shampoo – tantalizing peach and immediately thinks, this is dangerous.

 

But even when her mind tells her to stop – tell her it’s not okay, what are you doing, Wendy still can’t help but brush away stray strands of onyx, press a kiss to Joohyun’s forehead, and let her lips linger on sun casted skin. She has done it once before, anyway.

 

Joohyun merely hums and it makes Wendy pull away, a smile carving across her mouth as she curls ebony behind her ear.

 

Wendy’s not sure if it’s love – maybe it’s really just like, but she wouldn’t mind the noises anymore if it means all she’ll ever see in her head is Joohyun.

 

She unclasps Joohyun’s tender grip around her hips, settles her supple fingers gently on the bed as she untangles their legs beneath the sheets, easing herself on her feet and glancing at the clock on her nightstand – _10:26 AM._

 

Pretty late – Joohyun would already be up by 9. Does that mean she really doesn’t sleep?

 

Wendy pretends it doesn’t make her worry, pulling the blanket so it covers up to Joohyun’s neck, right below her chin, and heads for the kitchen. If she could manage to make Joohyun sleep again, it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. That’s a plan.

 

Brushing down on the creases of her large navy blue sweater, Wendy pulls out the utensils needed to make breakfast, cracking eggs and stirring in a bowl with deft fingers.

 

She reaches for her cellphone lying on the kitchen table and clicks it open after the third ring.

 

“Hello?”

 

_“Wendy!”_

 

The volume of her voice makes Wendy bump her arm against the handle of the pan, almost knocking the contents over and she fumbles to steady it, cursing at her reaction to Seulgi’s casual greeting.

 

“H-Hi Seul, sorry – just surprised me,”

 

_“… You have such a weak heart, Wen.”_

 

Wendy laughs, flipping the pancake over, and lets it sizzle beneath the heat. “What is it?”

 

Seulgi’s chuckles envelope her ear, _“Your roommate treating you well in the cold, winter nights?”_

 

Her cough must’ve given her away, attempting to muffle the noise behind a hand – her blush already burning between her fingers. Seulgi gasps, dramatic over the phone.

 

 _“Oh. My. God. Wen – you didn’t.”_ Wendy doesn’t even have time to intersect, stop Seulgi’s brain from picturing things as the other girl barrels on. _“Scratch that – is your roommate keeping you super warm like hot chocolate in the cold winter nights?”_

 

Wendy sputters broken syllables, nearly burning her eggs and she has to rush to splay it out on a plate – peel off the burns from its crispy yellow edges.

 

“N-No, Seul – you got it wrong, it’s, it’s not like that!”

 

Seulgi’s snort is loud on the other end, disbelieving. _“Right. Then why does it sound like your eggs are cooking between your legs instead of on the pan?”_

 

Wendy almost bangs her forehead against the countertop, her knees suddenly weak at the implication and growing smile she knows is crawling its way up Seulgi’s face.

 

She has to steady her weight on the table, already unable to keep herself upright. “I-I, what – just, I didn’t – I’m not, no, wait – eggs?” Wendy squeaks, her voice going an octave higher as the heat flares her cheeks in a darker shade of red.

 

Seulgi guffaws, attempting to ease her heart rate to a slower thrum, _“Kidding, Wen. You’re just so easy to tease,”_

 

Wendy sighs, a hand to her chest as she waits for the organ to stop pounding in her ears. She’s thankful Joohyun’s still sleeping or else she’d end up asking things like, What’s the matter, or Why do you look like a tomato?

 

 _“I can tell she’s treating you okay, so that’s good.”_ Seulgi says and Wendy wonders about the change in tone, almost wistful. _“Um, have you talked to your parents yet?”_

 

Oh. So that’s why.

 

Wendy pretends it doesn’t bother her, how Joohyun’s face disappears like smoke in her mind – already replaced with her parents’, all worried and calling out to her.

 

She mutters quietly, “… No,” Wendy pats down invisible crinkles on her sweater, tries not to think about them again.

 

Seulgi hums, careful in her tone. _“… They miss you,”_

 

Wendy knows they do. Of course they would – she’s their daughter. It’d be sad if they didn’t.

 

She goes back to scraping off the burnt edges of the scrambled egg, vaguely wondering if she should make another.

 

Wendy pulls out the carton and cracks more. “I know, Seul.”

 

Her friend’s hum is almost inaudible, playing as background noise to their shared silence. Wendy pretends it doesn’t bother her – how the quiet allows the noises to come back in gushes of grateful smiles and relieved embraces not belonging to Joohyun.

 

 _“Won’t you call them at least?”_ Seulgi asks after Wendy flips the scrambled egg, attempting to distract herself from the whispers of her mother and father’s concern. _“Let them know you’re okay?”_

 

“And tell them what? ‘Sorry but I still don’t remember how much I love you’?” Wendy quips, tinges of guilt and regret spilling from her lips like acid. “It’d break them,”

 

Seulgi’s sigh seeps through her ears as she dumps the newly scrambled egg next to the crispier counterpart.

 

_“But at least it’d sound like you’re trying, Wen.”_

 

Wendy flares up like a lit match – triggered by the reminder of her poor attempt at remembering things she should. “I’m not running away Seul!”

 

 

Seulgi’s retort is quick, _“I didn’t say you were,”_ but it doesn’t calm the sudden nerves in Wendy’s fingers; how she’s struggling with keeping the phone against her ear.

 

Their voices grow louder in her head like pounding honks from cars impatiently stuck in traffic. They both know the truth – after all, why else would she move out of her parents’ house to live with a stranger? Take the risk of dealing with someone who wouldn’t be able to deal with her habits?

 

Wendy knows she got lucky with Joohyun.

 

 _“Just… give it some thought, okay?”_ Seulgi suggests, hints of empathy tainting the lilt in her tone and Wendy squeezes her eyes shut at the sounds getting louder, wracking her skull.

 

She gives them too much thought.

 

When Seulgi coughs, as if muffled by a hand, Wendy remembers breakfast.

 

 _“… Well, how about you wish me good luck for tonight?”_ Seulgi asks with a lilt curling at the end of her question, almost like it’s her way of apologizing for bringing up something she knew was like taboo.

 

Wendy perks up at the news.

 

“Good luck? What’s happening tonight?” She asks, plopping sets of bread into the toaster.

 

 _“I’m going on a blind date,”_ The sounds of chips cracking fill her ears again, flitting between the pauses of silence as Seulgi recounts things Wendy wasn’t aware of. _“A classmate suggested I go out for once, you know, try the relationship thing again – have a love life.”_

 

Wendy knows how much Seulgi doesn’t want one – remembers that Seulgi already has someone tucked away in her heart.

 

“… I’m sorry, Seul.” The words leave her lips in whispers, as if the gentle tilt of her voice would ease the hurt she hears still marring Seulgi's.

 

Seulgi crunches on her chips again. _"... Thanks. It's just – it's getting easier. Sort of."_

 

Wendy hums, knows her friend’s heart is still broken – even when Seulgi’s lover never actually left her in the first place. Seulgi’s girlfriend was still here, yet wasn’t.

 

"Reminds me of me," _How I don’t remember loving mom or dad, or my friends._ Wendy says absently, keeping her noises to herself.

 

Seulgi laughs, dry, almost wistful at the comparison.

 

 _"Yeah,”_ her friend says as Wendy begins to tap her finger on the kitchen table, attempting to silence the noises. _“The only difference is that she was in love with me and you're not."_

 

Wendy grins despite herself, hoping to pull her friend back up again, lighten the mood – try to forget that she’s not thinking about her parents; _“Seungwan, come home.”_

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – six._

 

"Don't worry Seul. She'll remember again,"

 

She could hear Seulgi smile through her phone.

 

_"Thanks, Wen."_

 

It ends there, with Seulgi's laughter carrying bits of sorrow despite the dissipating tension and Wendy's soft giggles of goodbye and good luck lined with hope for her friend's happiness.

 

_“Please, come home.”_

_Tick. Tick. Tick – fifteen._

 

Wendy pulls the bread and eggs together onto one plate, momentarily contemplating whether she should set up the table before deciding it'd be nice to have breakfast in bed.

 

Wendy settles on the side, her mattress absorbing her weight, the tray safe atop her lap. A smile immediately etches the corners of her lips, curving her mouth into a tilt that’s becoming more familiar every second she spends with Joohyun.

 

Almost as if to prolong the inevitable, Wendy lets her fingers run over Joohyun's brow, her temple, over her cheek, and to her lips – attempt to memorize each touch of warm skin beneath her fingertips. Wendy’s not willing to whisk away this image of peace carved across Joohyun's face.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – twenty-two._

 

The longer she looks, the more she realizes she hasn’t seen Joohyun this comfortable – this relaxed (Wendy’s seen specks of them, from moments of Joohyun ironing and folding clothes on Sundays to quiet meals they share together, almost intimate), without stress lining the muscles of her expressions, drawing sharp edges like jagged glass, broken and uneven along the contours of her jaw and eyes.

 

Wendy glances at the clock, _11:13 AM,_ and resolves to make this a routine thing – make Joohyun sleep, force the dark circles pooling like drips of honey to fade back into pale white.

 

With a voice filled too much of warmth and letters of love beneath words barely masking her heart, Wendy rouses Joohyun from her slumber.

 

“… Joohyun, time to wake up…” Wendy whispers, cooing in wisps of the lyrics in her chest, her knuckles leaving fleeting caresses over Joohyun’s temple. “… Wakey wakey, Hyun…”

 

Wendy forgets when her finger stopped counting.

 

-

 

Irene doesn’t remember dreaming.

 

Her brows scrunch up, nose crinkling at smooth streaks of warmth like brushes, heat coming off in gentle tides, seeping to dance across her eyelids, urging them to open.

 

She doesn’t remember dreaming – Irene doesn’t remember them pretending to be anything else but nightmares of coffee kisses and silk touches and lingering ghost words of _‘I love you’_ painting on blazing hot skin.

 

She doesn’t remember dreaming about _her._

 

The warmth of gentle cotton shower over her brow, easing Irene of this cloudy haze curtaining over her eyes like blizzard rain. It’s drawing watercolors for an image Irene knows she’s familiar with, the voice clasping onto her earlobes and painting streaks across the fog in her mind.

 

“… Wake up…”

 

A groan escapes Irene’s lips, attempting to figure out the picture that’s sketching itself behind closed eyes, the voice dropping lines of ink as it carves through clouds.

 

“… Hyun…”

 

It’s not _her._ She knows by the way her chest doesn’t clench in pulsing pain from her voice, pumping agony through her veins and invading her mind like corroding toxin – waste her away on bleeding poison from memories of a fleeting forever.

 

This one – this feels softer, like it’s afraid of getting hurt, afraid of being broken, of being alone and –

 

Irene sees pools of brown dotted in tinges of words too scrambled for her head to put together at the moment.

 

Her voice croaks out from the blurs of morning, “… Wan…?”

 

She almost misses the way her roommate’s lips automatically widen, bearing pearly whites, beaming in sparks of glee Irene remembers seeing more often as she squints, urging the smudges of obscure colors to clear away behind groggy eyes.

 

Irene feels warmth massage her brow again, Wendy’s fingers lingering over her forehead, her roommate’s voice cradling laughter between her teeth.

 

“… I guess nicknames naturally come along when you spend a night together, hm?” Seungwan says, her giggles making Irene float above oceans of giant grins and coffee.

 

It takes four blinks before Irene registers Seungwan’s words, rubbing at her eyes as Seungwan continues to massage tender circles over her temple, help her rid the smoky haze still clouding her mind.

 

“… I fell asleep?” Irene muses amidst bleary colors, and Seungwan’s laughter is feather light.

 

Seungwan curls a strand of onyx behind Irene’s ear, “… Yeah, you did.”

 

Irene doesn’t think much of Seungwan’s lingering touches.

 

It’s only when Seungwan mentions food that Irene finally doesn’t have clouds barricading her sight like a steel fortress, getting up so she could rest her back against the headboard. She spots toast and scrambled eggs splayed on a plate and metal tray, settled comfortably on Seungwan’s lap.

 

“Here,” Seungwan cushions a portion of eggs between two toasts, mimicking a sandwich and passes it to Irene. “It’s too late to be considered breakfast, but a little bit early to be called lunch, so we’re having brunch.”

 

Irene recognizes this confident Seungwan from the lacking stutters and fidgety fingers, wandering eyes and overhanging fringe.

 

“… In bed?”

 

“Yup,”

 

Irene quirks a brow, gaze falling to stare at the blanket still looped over her legs.

 

“Won’t there be crumbs?”

 

The question jostles Seungwan back to cracked words and nervous fingers, “O-Oh, right. It’ll be really messy and –”

 

Irene hushes her, gestures Seungwan to sit next to her, pats the space beside her and feels a smile curl at the corner of her lips as Seungwan nods timidly, curiosity etching her eyes in question but keeping mute under her instructions.

 

“We’ll just use the tray as our table okay?” Irene says, tapping Seungwan’s brow.

 

Irene’s mouth breaks into a grin at Seungwan’s shy hum of approval, their shoulder and arm squished comfortably against each other, heat spilling across cotton and polyester into skin, caressing waves of gentle company between the spaces of their friendship.

 

Irene munches on the toast, thanking Seungwan for the meal with a delighted squeal between chews of _“You’re always great with food – and you spoil me,”_ and pinching Seungwan’s cheek when she reddens at the compliment, mutters beneath her breath, _“I-It’s nothing, really – I just, I want to anyway…”_

It’s the first morning Irene has ever had that didn’t consist of haunting memories ghosting over her limbs.

 

When she spots Seungwan tapping on her wristwatch (she’s thinking again – but about what, Irene doesn’t know), Irene lends her hand, urges Seungwan with a nudge of her shoulder to tap on her palm instead.

 

It takes a lopsided smile and drowsy eyes from Irene before Seungwan gives in, her roommate’s finger counting thoughts away against her skin. Irene wants to be there for her just like how Seungwan’s been with her all this time.

 

Irene forgets her morning ritual of coffee and smoke.

 

-

 

“Is that everything?” Irene asks, flitting through the other half of grocery bags in her hand as Seungwan filters through her own.

 

They shuffle to the side so they won’t block the rest of the customers motioning to exit.

 

Seungwan hums, “Yeah, I think so.”

 

They have just finished getting enough supplies to last them for the next week or so, various assortments of foods and basic necessities like new toothbrushes bundled up together in plastic.

 

Irene particularly wants to replace the shower curtain in their bathroom; it was getting a little grungy and the patches of filth and specks of mold have been staring at her for far too long already.

 

She trails behind, vaguely hears Seungwan crossing off the checklist with every swipe of her pen, still digging through – making sure everything was accounted for, attempting to drown out the audio plaque of crowding customers flitting back and forth.

 

_“Nice lipstick young lady; very bold and very red.”_

_“Thank you,”_

Her steps falter, stopping at the familiar lilt of a voice, head already swinging to the side for the sound of that particular pitch, the tinges of mischief beneath that familiar tone.

 

Irene recognizes copper brown hair cascading over her back – recognizes the familiar checkered pattern of _her_ scarf and the pair of purple mittens.

 

It's her.

 

Irene knows it's her.

 

_It has to be. It can't be anyone else._

 

"J-Joohyun?!"

 

Irene barely hears Seungwan call after her, eyes so focused on the figure disappearing behind gaggles of customers that she forgets they're supposed to be going home together.

 

Her legs are already moving, pushing away at clusters of people stalling near the exit, muttering things about dinner and dates as _she_ slithers past, already on the other side of the door.

 

She can't lose _her_ again.

 

Irene shoves her way through, ignores their sharp tongues filled with curses, her frantic palms pressing hard against the door so it'd turn faster.

 

She stumbles outside, almost slipping on fractured ice, staggering against strangers managing to still get in her way even when she’s already pushed them aside to see fading streaks of copper among crystals sprinkling the air.

 

_It has to be her._

 

Flakes of white flutter in petals amidst a dark navy sky, silvering down and coloring the world in hues of grey. The snow crunches beneath her black boots, cracking the bustling sounds of stumbling passerby’s as Irene forces her way through the crowd, swearing under her breath for the amount of people keeping her away from _her._

 

Swaying strands of copper brown hair bounce among the cluster of yapping individuals playing as stalemates to Irene's aching chest, teasing her, keeping her from closing the distance between them – maintaining the gap that has always been there for the past year in coffee drinks and puffs of cigarettes.

 

_It has to be her._

“Joohyu–!”

 

She stops when she hears a thud and a grunt, Seungwan's yelp striking through Irene's ears and into her chest, forcing her pulse to a pause. When she looks back she only sees gaggles of pedestrians – spotting the end of Seungwan’s signature navy blue scarf flickering in the air, her roommate lost inside the crowd.

 

Irene attempts to step forward but falters (remembers there’s still _her_ ) when she looks the other way – back to _her,_ and sees _she’s_ stuck at a stoplight; the countdown flaring orange-red; _29._

_“Unnie, kiss me?”_

The background falls into silence – Irene can’t hear the thrumming cars, the plaque of chatter of passerby’s – the only sounds haunting her head being ghost touches of _her_ words and Seungwan’s.

_“… You make the noises hurt less,”_

Her eyes swivel nervously back to Seungwan, startled to find Seungwan on the ground, covered in mountains of white, attempting to pick up the pears and apples rolling away amidst the people flitting about everywhere and nowhere at once. How did she fall?

Irene knows she has a choice to make.

 

_“Irene unnie…”_

She glances back to _her,_ spots the signature copper-brown clustered in the middle of the crowd – the only thing familiar to her. Irene watches the countdown of the stoplight, playing in beat with the pounding rhythm in her chest.

 

_16,_

_“…I won’t be able to let you go if you’re going to be like this,”_

Seungwan.

_“…Don’t be like this to me, please…”_

Irene memorizes _her_ back one more time – engraves the color of red-brown and checkered pattern scarf, tattoos the color of purple mittens into her mind and turns around, hurries to Seungwan because she shouldn’t be chasing after phantom smiles when she already has someone who makes her feel like she’s home even when Irene’s convinced herself that home is where the heart is.

 

Irene pretends (tucks away the nerves in her fingers, swallows memories of ghost kisses) as she bends down to pick up the remaining lost fruits, that she didn’t just stop chasing after her heart.

 

_"… I love you, unnie."_

 

"J-Joohyun?" Seungwan squeaks amidst her hasty haze of fitting back the missing groceries.

 

Irene slinks some into her own bag and helps her up, dusting away patches of soot and muddy water from Seungwan's knees and hands. Irene pretends she doesn’t hear _her_ voice stuck in her head, clawing and reminding her that she might never get another chance to see _her_ again.

 

_"… I thought you left me,"_

 

Just think of Seungwan.

 

"Did someone push you?" Irene's surprised at the growl that escaped her lips (how quick she is to pretend like _she_ didn’t just happen – guilt clawing at her throat) as she brushes Seungwan's bangs back, fixing stray strands, removing specks of snow dusting her cheeks.

 

Seungwan's voice comes out meek, "I, um – I don't think they mean it. Everyone's in a hurry so..."

 

Irene clucks her tongue, wills away the last remnants of _her_ from her mind; "Don't make excuses for people who don't deserve it," she quips, clasping Seungwan's hand and glaring at the passerby’s idling beside them, "No one helped you,"

 

_“Do you love me, unnie?”_

 

"You did," Seungwan murmurs behind a small smile, shy for the confession and grateful for their laced fingers.

 

Irene forgets the flaring anger rising her throat (forgets that _she’s_ walking away – spotting the green light with a quick glance), forgets that the walls tremor in frustration for something as little as this (but it's not little - it's the amount of kindness that is) and stares at Seungwan, attempting to read the painting of a melody behind brown pools that she's starting to hear in her head (covering _her_ voice).

 

Irene vaguely wonders if it’s okay for her chest to be this loud when she looks at Seungwan.

 

She flushes under Seungwan's wide curious scrutiny, how her roommate tilts her head ever so slightly so loose strands of auburn falls over one shoulder, specks of white clutching onto the material, sketching her as innocent as she truly is.

 

Guilt eats at her in large bites, chomping along the walls of her stomach, spilling acid that it makes Irene churn at the reminder of breaking a muted promise she couldn’t even keep in her own head.

_"… I thought you left me,"_

 

"Joohyun?"

 

_I’m an idiot._

 

Irene turns away, gently tugging at Seungwan's hand and leads her out of the supermarket. She needs to cool off her face with the way her cheeks feel hot like heat is bleeding from it in smokes.

 

"I'm sorry, for – well," Irene pulls her closer, speaking smaller because she's stuttering and she doesn't want everyone else to hear it. "... I'm sorry for leaving you behind," _Again._

 

Seungwan bumps her shoulder with her cheek, nudging her silently and it makes Irene look at her, suppress the blush attempting to rise past her neck.

 

"You came back,” Irene is puzzled at the blur of words in Seungwan’s eyes as the shorter girl tugs at her sleeve. “That’s all that matters.” … _So optimistic._

 

Despite the reassurances: of Seungwan’s fingers, her smile, and her words, Irene doesn’t feel any better. How she had so easily forgotten her roommate for ghost memories long gone, driven by the image of a girl who resembled her. _She might not have even been her._

Irene apologizes for every breath she took following a shadow of _her,_ apologies writing across every gesture she makes; squeezing her hand, holding Seungwan closer when whistles of wind blow just a little harder, and whisper _‘Sorry, I’ll be better,’_ into her ear in intervals between Seungwan’s stuttering syllables and the minute pauses in Irene’s chest.

 

She forgets on their way back to the apartment that she had just let her heart walk away.

 

-

 

One by one Irene unlatches the hooks from the old beige curtain, scowling at the grime clasping onto her fingers like dusty caramel, and rolls it up, hiding away the specks of greenish grey mold with folds of ash gold still barely crisp.

 

She dumps it with a flick of her wrist, relief washing over her in waves as she watches the lid of the trash can shut with a click, the sound playing as the tell tale song of an annoyance finally dealt and done with.

 

Ripping the plastic cover containing their brand new sleek curtain dashed in solid royal blue (which Seungwan loved in particular – the girl couldn’t stop gushing over the shade and Irene knew then that the curtain was _the one_ ), Irene loops the hooks one by one, keeping her balance atop the ledge of the bathtub.

 

She’s glad she’s not wearing her socks, or else she’d slip – and Irene’s rather sure her back wouldn’t appreciate being crushed again.

 

 _“Hyun, um – where did you put the flour?”_ Seungwan’s voice comes out muffled from the closed bathroom door, her yell coming out seemingly meek – almost like the girl was whispering instead (they’ve resorted to nicknames – it comes easier than Irene thought).

 

Irene grunts as she attempts to puncture through a covered point with a hook, “In the bottom right drawer – by the refrigerator!”

 

 _“Hyun…”_ Her roommate’s voice gets louder, as if it was looming closer, _“… You know I prefer the bottom left because it’s closer to the oven!”_ Irene chuckles at Seungwan’s whine, a rare sound other than when she’d pester her about her preferences, preferring certain things placed in specific order – or in particular places.

 

“And you know I don’t like moving the flour bag so I could get my soy sauce, right?” Irene quips, finally looping half of the curtain.

 

The apartment falls to a quiet hum again, bouts of muffled tinkling aluminum and porcelain ringing past the wooden bathroom door – background noise that reminds Irene that her roommate’s about to make one of her many delicious meals and that she should at least help out with the process of it.

 

“But Hyun…” She yelps at the creaking door, Seungwan’s voice coming back frighteningly closer than she thought it’d be – her hands fumbling with the last loop. “H-Hyun!” Irene’s clutching at the curtain, attempting to keep herself steady from the ledge but the surprise still lining her limbs keeps her frantic.

 

Seungwan’s clutching hard onto her back, her sweater probably carrying a picture of her roommate’s fist for how her knuckles are pressing against her skin, but Seungwan’s attempt to help her from falling fails as Irene spins at her grip, her foot slipping off at the added weight.

 

Everything else goes too fast but Irene vaguely hears the sound of tearing plastic – her fists still clasped tightly around the curtain (the poor, _poor,_ blue curtain, she thinks) piercing sounds akin to shredding paper as she turns around in time to see Seungwan’s wide eyes – filled with a fear she remembers seeing that night;

 

_"… I thought you left me,"_

 

Irene coughs out air as soon as her back slams against the bottom of the tub, her body slipping to fill the container, Seungwan’s weight pressing heavily above her, squeezing out extra oxygen from her lips – emptying her lungs like a choked balloon.

 

It doesn’t help that water is suddenly spraying against her face – her body; _everything_ , making her gasp out as droplets of liquid pools past her mouth, clasping at the walls of her throat, playing as roadblocks for her lungs clutching for air. Her foot must’ve stubbed the handle of the shower and flicked it on somewhere along her fall if her toe hurting was anything to come by.

 

Irene wasn’t planning to take a shower until _after_ the curtain was put on. _Oh god,_ the poor _curtain._

 

“I’m _so_ sorry! A-Are you okay, Hyun?” Seungwan’s weight on her stomach makes it tougher to reign herself in, groaning in response as Irene tries to discern the colors in her head, dizzy at the fall. “Joohyun?”

 

Irene’s thankful Seungwan’s hovering over her so the water stops splashing on her face, her eyes still shut as she swipes a hand to flick liquid off.

 

“… I’m fine,” she grunts, blearily blinking past wet curtains of auburn hair, feeling Seungwan’s hands wiping away at remnants of water from her forehead. “I just –” Irene coughs, sputters bits of liquid choking her throat from her lips.

 

“Oh! Here, let me just –”

 

Seungwan attempts to get off, her palms settling on the floor of the tub but it must’ve been as slippery as Irene thought it’d be (the ledge wasn’t joking, Irene thinks bitterly), because in the next moment, Seungwan’s chin knocks hard against Irene’s forehead and they’re both groaning from the impact.

 

“Seungwan, just – just use my shoulders,” Irene says, exasperated at the tragedy of them being stuck in their own bathtub. She watches with a raised brow as her roommate attempts again, her hand easily teetering off from the tub. “… Wan, seriously.”

 

She sees Seungwan bite her lip, her fingers hesitantly curling around her shoulders and Irene wonders amidst the sudden silence (other than the continuous flush of running water still streaming against Seungwan, blocking Irene of the showerhead), if it’s okay for roommates to be this particularly close – lodged in the bathtub all wet and stuck together (at least none of them are wearing white). _How intimate._

 

Irene rubs at her eyes, sees past bleary colors as Seungwan turns the knob so the water stops. It takes another groan to slip through her teeth before Irene manages to finally sit up, leaning her back against the end of the tub. She rests her head against the tile of the bathroom and settles there, shutting her eyes again, waiting for the pain to trickle away from her bones.

 

“… Hyun?”

 

“Hm?” Her brows furrow when she hears Seungwan tread back into the tub, still soaking wet from the water (Irene can feel her own clothes stick like glue to her skin) and peeks out behind half-lidded eyes.

 

“Tired?” Seungwan asks, sitting across from her and pulling her legs into her arms so she could cradle her head against her knees.

 

Irene feels the corners of her lips twitch upwards. She curls her legs up so Seungwan would have more room.

 

“Yeah,” she says, before rubbing at her shoulder, “… Just resting a bit – my back still hurts.”

 

“Want me to massage it?”

 

Irene laughs, “No it’s okay, Wan. Besides,” she says as she glances at the doorway, “Aren’t you going to bake?”

 

Seungwan’s finger is tapping on her knee, “W-Well, not until you’re really okay…” it falls into mere murmurs, but Irene’s close enough to hear it, smiling as Seungwan avoids her gaze, stares at a droplet cascading in pauses at the edge of the tub.

 

They fall into a calm quiet. Irene takes this time to watch Seungwan – watch how she’s still the same, hiding behind her fringe (it’s gotten longer), her finger still remembering its religious tapping, yet different; how comfortable Seungwan finally looks in her own skin, no longer doubting the things in her head; whatever they are.

 

It hits Irene like a freight train that they don’t know much about each other – even when they’ve lived together for a few months already. She knows the basics; that Seungwan likes the color blue, loves baking and cooking, has the habit of tapping things, preferring the noises of ‘ticks’ and ‘clicks’, and plays various musical instruments.

 

“… Um, Joohyun?”

 

Irene glances back from following the tiny droplet lingering at the edge of the tub. She sees how Seungwan’s fidgeting – almost like what she was about to say was a sin and Seungwan wasn’t sure if it was okay to allow such poison to spill from her lips. Irene’s brows crinkle at the way her roommate’s lip gets caught between her teeth, almost like she’s forcing herself to keep her mouth shut.

 

Irene urges her to continue with a nodding head, “Yeah?”

 

Seungwan looks guilty as soon as her words trickle out from her throat, “… Why were you running?” She bows her head as soon as it floats in the air long enough for Irene to process what she’s asking.

 

Irene never realized her roommate has still been walking on glass since their introductions left their lips, _“I’m Joohyun,” “People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead,”_  – how they still have this invisible wall wedged between the distance that keeps them apart, too far to even know what the other prefers to eat.

 

Irene stares at the way Seungwan refuses to look up at her, as if fear is eating her up and swallowing her whole, her chin tucked right against her collarbone, auburn draping over her expression like it was a shield.

 

Irene wants to remove this cloud of terror that’s cocooning Seungwan like a blanket made of the distance that keeps them from being more than just roommates; she thinks it’s about time (four months and three days since they’ve exchanged each other’s names) that they got rid of this wall that keeps them from being comfortable enough to share stories that make them hurt.

 

“… I was looking for her _,_ ”

 

Seungwan’s nose scrunches up, her head rising a little from where it hid behind her knees. “’Her’?”

 

Irene nods, glancing at the broken blue curtain dangling precariously like a damaged toy, “My girlfriend,”

 

“’Girlfriend’?” Seungwan echoes, her eyes widening a fraction behind curtains of hair. “You have a girlfriend?”

 

Irene’s gaze swivels back to Seungwan, watches her jaw drop, gaping at her despite her stare.

 

She laughs, “Are you more surprised that she’s a girl or that I’m dating?” Irene asks, amusement spilling between the spaces of her teeth.

 

Seungwan’s stuttering, “R-Really? But – I-I haven’t seen her before, and –” she’s sputtering broken words like they’ve been hacked off into pieces just before they leave her throat. “ – and I shouldn’t be surprised you’re dating, because, um, _of course_ you’d be taken, being as pretty as you are…” Her words end in trailing murmurs, but it doesn’t escape Irene’s hearing.  

 

Irene nudges Seungwan with her foot, tapping lightly against Seungwan’s ankle, playful. “Thanks for calling me pretty, though I guess the more correct term would be ‘ex’ girlfriend.” _Seungwan doesn’t care if she’s a girl._

 

“’Ex’?” Seungwan parrots again and Irene tries to pretend she doesn’t notice a drop of water trickle down her roommate’s cheek to linger on the line of her jaw, opting to stare at the tiny crack on the tiled wall just beside Seungwan instead.

 

Irene presses on the end of her sleeve, squeezing bits of water from it, steels each syllable with coats of armor Irene knows she doesn’t have much of left. She’s getting tired of being strong.

 

“… She just…” Maybe Seungwan has a knack for reading body language (Irene wouldn’t put it past her with her slight OCD-ness), because the girl slides closer, loops their feet so they’re tangled together, her warmth easing into her skin like a safety net. “… She just went away and I still don’t know why,” _… she left me,_ was what Irene wanted to say but the words won’t let go of her lips, dangling out like a swaying tree branch on her mouth, teasing her of the cold truth she already knew of but can’t admit.

 

“… I’m sorry Joohyun,” Irene doesn’t know why she’s apologizing as Seungwan’s fingers twiddle gently with Irene’s toes, her expression masked by her hair again. “… I’m sorry I kept you from finding out why,” Irene takes note of her trembling shoulders – _her trembling voice_ , how they quake beneath a drenched grey sweater and shaking lips.

 

Irene frowns, clicking her tongue in disapproval before she leans forward, tilts Seungwan’s head up with a finger beneath her chin because she shouldn’t be getting used to keeping it down.

 

Irene’s voice comes out too warm, too soft, too gentle, despite the growl thrumming her throat – too akin to the whispers of _‘I love you’_ that spilled from her lips countless times for _her._

“Stop apologizing for things that are out of your control, Seungwan.” She clasps their hands together, feels Seungwan’s fingers tremor under her grip – Seungwan’s lips quivering from the chill clutching at their sticky clothes. “Don’t apologize for being my priority,” Irene says as she curls locks of auburn behind Seungwan’s ear, sees how the girl quakes under her touch.

 

Seungwan is freezing.

 

 _Of course,_ Irene thinks, they’re still soaking wet from head to toe.

Without a word, Irene ushers her up, guides Seungwan out of the tub before grabbing the blue towel hanging beside the sink her roommate loves so much to dangle it over Seungwan’s shoulders. Irene ignores the wounded curtain, torn into a heap of shredded plastic that Irene couldn’t care less about at the moment.

 

“J-Joohyun?” Her stuttered name only brings in more guilt to Irene as she leads her out of the bathroom, taking her own towel from the rack and urging her towards her respective room.

 

Irene smiles, “Go change, Wan.” _Think of yourself for once,_ the rest of Irene’s words never leave her lips as she pushes Seungwan, her palm pressing gently against the small of her back, passing her a dismissive wave at Seungwan’s lost look.

 

When she hears Seungwan shut the door behind her several steps later, recognize the quiet clicks of her roommate’s lock ticking open and close until it reaches Seungwan’s favorite number – _33,_ Irene heads for her own room, rubbing the white towel against her hair.

Seungwan deserves a monument built in her name for her muted kindness – for her silent acts of comfort.

 

-

 

Irene’s flicking through the various colors of shower curtains, attempting to find the same shade of blue Seungwan loves so much (the same one Irene had unfortunately ripped due to her inability to _not_ be afraid of even the slightest thing).

 

She had left the apartment with an overwhelming sense of curiosity – a giant question mark growing in the back of her mind that Irene wonders how it even got there in the first place.

 

Her thoughts go back to just moments before, when they had just come out of their respective bedrooms, still attempting to dry their hair from the unfortunate event, Irene settling down at the couch and Seungwan following suit.

 

Irene wanted to replace the curtain right away, _“It’s bugging me like a mosquito bite,”_ She remembers saying as laughter lines drew over Seungwan’s face.

 

Seungwan had ushered her over and told her to settle in front of her, reaching out and unlooping the white towel around Irene’s neck,

 

_“Come here, Hyun.”_

Irene hadn’t thought much of it, crossing her legs so Seungwan could get closer, have better reach as Seungwan draped the towel over her head and began to dry her hair.

 

She had grasped at Seungwan’s wrist, _“Oh, you don’t have to do that Wan, I can –”_

Irene suddenly couldn’t see, the towel shielding her vision.

 

 _“Too late,”_ Irene had been surprised at Seungwan’s lighthearted laughter, sounding as smooth as a jazz chord progression, falling in rhythm to the somber quiet of the apartment. _“And I want to, okay?”_

She had no qualms about it. Though Irene knew Seungwan was spoiling her quite a bit – _too much, even._

_“We practically showered together, Wan.”_

Seungwan’s laughter caressed the wounds of a past Irene wouldn’t mind forgetting if it meant she could hear such happiness again, streaking her memories like it made them lighter to carry.

 

Her fingers drew tender circles around Irene’s scalp, the towel cushioning the indents of her nails. Seungwan’s soft massages were lulling Irene to sleep, her hands dancing a soothing melody across her head like the keys to a piano.

 

Irene even felt wisps of air flutter against her lips, as if teasing her with the end of a kite that could carry her to slumber if she just moved closer. It didn’t help that the towel was still covering her line of sight, preventing her from seeing where the sky started and the darkness ended.

 

It took a few breaths ghosting over her mouth when Irene realized Seungwan had stopped drying her head.

 

Irene’s lips move to form her name, _“Seungwan?”_ her mouth feeling tendrils of feather touches before it went away as Irene lifted a portion of the cloth so she could finally see again.

 

She was startled to feel Seungwan jolt back, like electricity flowed through her veins, her eyes wide and filled with colors too full of everything for Irene to discern. She saw clouds of shock, pain, hesitation, and happiness, all at once – from the way Seungwan’s lips mouthed syllables, never once spilling a sound.

 

_“What is it?”_

Seungwan never really answered her. She just got up and muttered, _“Bake,”_ and went right to it, pulling out assortments of bowls and flour, settling herself quickly into the automatic routines of the kitchen.

 

Irene had stayed on the couch, remained stunned as she watched her roommate tie the apron around her back, and wondered if something was wrong.

 

Irene grins at the sight of the familiar royal blue curtain, snatching the item between slim fingers and striding straight for the cashier. She can finally shower again without the lingering fear of grime sticking to her clean skin.

 

As she waits in line, two customers away from the till, Irene lets her mind wander back to her roommate, back to startled pools of brown that carried more life than an ocean.

 

Irene still wonders how Seungwan could look like she wanted to run away and stay right where she was at the same time.

 

“Joohyun unnie?”

 

She blinks at the giant column standing right in front of her, dressed in a red pea coat and black sleek pants, recognizing the long shade of ebony cascading over her shoulders.

 

“Sooyoung?” Irene says, startled to find her friend lined up for the same cashier, her eyes disappearing into crescent moons akin to that famous pop idol member.

 

“Hey,” Sooyoung greets, her grin beaming pearly whites as Irene blinks past the haze of bright light, “Just preparing for a date,” she says, lifting a teal dress, specks of striped white outlining the contours of the material. “What about you, unnie?”

 

Irene shows her the item, “Curtain,” she says simply, the two taking a step forward as the line shortens by one.

 

Sooyoung attempts to muffle her giggles with a hand, before nudging her with an elbow against her shoulder. “Hey, uh – this might sound weird… and out of the blue, I know…”

 

Irene’s brows furrow at the meek sound of Sooyoung’s voice as the other girl scratches her neck, as if sheepish at a request playing in the puddles of her mind.

 

“… What?”

 

“Will you go on a double date with me?”

 

Irene’s already spinning around before the question fully leaves Sooyoung’s lips, the younger girl’s grip clasping hard against her elbow, forcing her to still from where she stands.

 

“I’m not going to put myself in awkward situations Soo,” she huffs, crossing her arms as Sooyoung slaps her palms together, bowing her head, as if praying for her presence – _begging._

 

“For me unnie? Please? I really like her, and well…” Irene raises a brow and nudges Sooyoung with her foot to her shin to take a step back as the line moves forward again, “… She said it’d be nice to get rid of the awkwardness because, you know, ‘the more the merrier’,”

 

Irene scowls, “… That sounds dumb,”

 

Sooyoung looks like she wants to disagree, but nods after a moment, “… Yeah, so, is that a yes?”

 

“No.”

 

“Unnie…” Irene pinches the bridge of her nose at Sooyoung’s whine, “… I know it’s last minute, but I was planning to ask you once I got home,”

 

“When’s the date?”

 

“Tonight,”

 

Irene clicks her tongue, already shaking her head, fervent repeats of ‘no’ escaping her lips in rapid succession as Sooyoung grabs at her cheeks, squeezing them tightly, forcing Irene to swat her hands away, slap the probing fingers from her face.

 

“I need to replace my curtain, Sooyoung.”

 

“That would only take at _most_ ten minutes, unnie.”

 

“I’m a perfectionist,”

 

“And I’m a realist, unnie.”

 

Irene pushes Sooyoung towards the cashier when the final customer leaves, watches her friend filter through her bag, placing the exact change before clasping at the plastic bag.

 

When it’s her turn, Irene punches in her pin code before watching the receipt print off in stuttered pauses as the lady hands her the item. As soon as the receipt settles into her fingers, Irene’s stalking off towards the exit, Sooyoung trailing closely behind.

 

“… Please unnie?” Her friend begins again and Irene sighs as she dumps the paper into her plastic bag.

 

“I’m not going to partner myself up with some stranger –”

 

“Then bring your roommate,”

 

Irene almost trips on a tiny rock, stubbing her toe, before scowling at the little piece of gravel. “I’m not bringing Seungwan into this mess,”

 

“You two are going to settle the awkwardness by just _being_ there, okay? Nothing fancy,”

 

Irene scoffs, “You’re right, it’s not fancy.” Sooyoung looks hopeful until she groans at the rest of Irene’s words, visibly deflating. “It’s called _hard work._ ”

 

She admires Sooyoung’s resilience and fighting persistence, accepting her offer (her mind tells her it’s bribery but Irene can’t think past the memory of clean laundry) of buying Irene fabric softener for the rest of the year and a new steam iron as down payment.

 

Irene ignores Sooyoung’s gushing groan of an empty wallet and begins writing up a script of her lines in her head to convince Seungwan to come along.

 

-

 

It takes 63 clicks from the lock, 45 ticks of her watch, and 24 carrot muffins out of the oven, to finally settle the racing thrum in Wendy’s heart – to calm the rising tides barraging her chest and drowning it in memory of Joohyun’s lips grazing hers.

 

Wendy can’t forget the feeling of her name, _“Seungwan?”_ slipping past Joohyun’s mouth, spilling between the spaces of her teeth as Joohyun’s lips caressed Wendy’s like a fleeting touch – teasing Wendy of what love could taste like; _divine,_ their mouths leaving silk streaks of what could be.

 

Wendy hadn’t meant to move that close – hadn’t meant to move close enough so she could feel Joohyun’s breath play with hers, her lips brushing hers. Maybe the towel played as a catalyst to her want, her _need,_ and knowing Joohyun couldn’t see what she was doing – couldn’t see how close Wendy was to her, it gave her all the courage she needed to just _try._ To take a sip of how it felt like to taste fine wine, luscious and warm.

 

She closes the tap of the sink, settles the last plate on the stand to dry and dabs her hands against the cloth hanging by the oven.

 

Wendy hadn’t known what to do then, settling for running away, pretending it didn’t happen and hoped Joohyun didn’t know what she had just done.

 

Joohyun didn’t sound any different – she even looked a little lost, puzzled at her hasty retreat but Wendy couldn’t bear to look at her any longer when the desire clawed at her throat, pushing her to do it again – _taste Joohyun again. Fully._ It terrified her.

 

It wasn’t even a kiss, just the slight touching of their mouths – nothing special. But her heart won’t stop reminding Wendy that it was; that it _was_ something special, even if it _was_ just shy of a kiss.

 

Wendy stubs her toe against her guitar at the sound of the lock clicking open, even when it was already settled in its stand, not lying around haphazardly on the floor like she wanted to at that moment – feeling worn out from the scent of vanilla and lavender still wafting through her mind’s eye, her lips still tingling of Joohyun’s touch.

 

“Found the same one you liked, Wan.” Joohyun’s voice filters through her ears, sounding lovelier than Wendy remembers it to be. “We can shower together properly this time,” the joke doesn’t escape Wendy, but it still manages to color her red, the blush crawling up her neck as Joohyun throws a playful wink her way.

 

_Don’t do this to me,_

“Um, would you mind if we went on this group date for a friend of mine?” Wendy watches Joohyun scratch at her cheek, looking sheepish as she glances away, settles her eyes on the pan still carrying carrot muffins. “She wants company and, well, normally I wouldn’t go, but, um…”

 

Wendy keeps her hands from clutching Joohyun’s jacket sleeve, “… Fabric softener?” She offers wistfully, tangling her fingers together so they won’t reach out for her, as she watches Joohyun laugh, nodding guiltily.

 

“And a steam iron.”

 

Wendy hides her hands behind her back, keeps them as far apart as she could from Joohyun.

 

“Of course,” she says with a chuckle, nods along as Joohyun hangs her jacket on the rack, “I wouldn’t mind going,” she agrees with the spontaneous plan, stepping aside as Joohyun rounds the counter of the kitchen table, too close for Wendy to pretend she doesn’t smell vanilla and lavender.

 

“I’m going to go put this up,” Joohyun says, showing her the royal blue curtain she remembers pointing out to her before, once she’s done wiping off specks of flour from Wendy’s cheek, “Thanks for always feeding me, Wan.” Joohyun smiles at her, ruffling Wendy’s hair like she had done once long ago, affection drowning Wendy like sand by the shore. “And thanks for not letting me go alone,”

 

_Don’t do this to me, please…_

Wendy smiles up at her, her hands gripping a string of her apron between fists at her back as Joohyun walks away, leaves her to burn in lingering trails of her tender touches.  

 

Air finally fills her lungs (when did she stop herself from breathing?) as Wendy grips the end of the counter, squeezing her eyes shut to will away the images of Joohyun looking at her like she meant something to her.

 

_Don’t make me feel more than I already do,_

Wendy attempts to erase how she had nearly let her fingers loose, nearly clasped at Joohyun’s face and almost pulled her in like she was her oxygen mask.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – three,_

Wendy copes with her thoughts the only way she knows how, her finger playing the familiar notes against her watch, attempting to ease the noises in her heart and head.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – six,_

 

-

 

Wendy just finished locking in her seatbelt when she receives Seulgi’s text message.

 

 _(I hope this date goes well!)_  
Sender:  _Kang Seulgi_  
Received:  _6:47:18 PM_  
Received:  _12/17/15_

 

She nearly drops her phone, the device dangling between jittery fingers as Joohyun settles in beside her, turning the ignition on and exiting out of the driveway.

 

Fear clutches at her throat like it’s shredding away whatever excuses she has left for a baseless assumption that Joohyun’s girlfriend – _ex,_ was Seulgi.

 

Wendy knows it’s irrational – how Seulgi had told her of a past lover (but she never asked for her name – _she should have_ ); it wouldn’t be Seulgi to keep a secret like that from her, but would it really be farfetched? Seulgi was going on a date tonight, just like they were – wasn’t it too much to be just a coincidence?

 

“You texting a friend?” Joohyun’s voice snaps her out of her hazy thoughts, “I should meet them – see if they’re treating you okay,” Wendy avoids her gaze as Joohyun glances at her, a twitch of a smile perking up at the corner of her roommate’s lips.

 

Wendy attempts to hide the name, ignore how Joohyun’s words eerily match Seulgi’s whenever she mentioned meeting her roommate.

 

“Y-Yeah, one day…” She mutters quietly, dabbing the keys on her phone, typing up a hurried reply.

 

 _(Good luck! What’s your date’s name?)_  
Sender:  _Son Seungwan Wendy_  
Received:  _6:52:09 PM_  
Received:  _12/17/15_

“What’s your friend’s name, Hyun?” Wendy asks as they turn a corner, halting at a red light.

 

“Sooyoung – but she prefers ‘Joy’ for appearances sake,” Joohyun replies with a chuckle, “Something about wanting to sound ‘happy’ even when she’s really not,”

 

Wendy hums absentmindedly, waiting for Seulgi’s inevitable reply – ending the suspense latching onto her lungs like titan fists.

 

She jumps at the mute vibration and flips her phone open.

 

 _(Thanks! And she said her name was ‘Joy’; I guess she’s a happy person?)_  
Sender:  _Kang Seulgi_  
Received:  _6:56:20 PM_  
Received:  _12/17/15_

 

Wendy pales at the revelation, feels her face drain of life and whiten like the flickering snowflakes falling from the night sky. Seulgi and Joohyun are going to meet. They’re going to meet and then –

 

Joohyun’s unclasping Wendy’s seatbelt, her voice sweeping tendrils across Wendy’s cheek. “What’s got you thinking so much that you didn’t hear me calling you the first three times?” She asks amusedly as Wendy blinks away clouds of Seulgi and Joohyun, wills away pictures of them holding hands, kissing and saying how much they love –

 

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you Wan?” Joohyun asks, and Wendy sees concern drawing itself in her dark pools, her breaths ghosting over Wendy’s lips that it forces her to turn away, curl her phone into a rock between her fingers.

 

Wendy’s words come out in shuddering gasps, attempting to quiet the tremors in her chest, how the beating organ is pounding like there’s a quake about to rupture and swallow her whole.

 

“D-Do we have to…?”

 

Joohyun’s sigh is heavy but resigned, “Not really. I like my iron and I have enough fabric softener to last the year anyway.” Wendy’s surprised at Joohyun’s quick agreement, no complaint leaving her lips. “Want to go home?” Joohyun asks her, and Wendy’s already feeling relief drench her chest, putting out the fire at the thought of losing Joohyun (she doesn’t even know why, it’s just clenching at her heart like it’d actually happen).

 

Wendy’s about to nod her head, say _“Yes, that’d be great Hyun,”_ before someone knocks at Joohyun’s window, familiar long ebony mane cascading over her shoulders.

 

“Unnie!” The girl calls out, and Wendy recognizes her to be Joohyun’s friend – _Sooyoung, ‘Joy’,_ “Aren’t you guys going to stop making out in there so you can keep us company or what?”

 

Joohyun knocks at the girl’s head with a light slap, reprimanding her as Wendy peers over the girl’s shoulder to see Seulgi already inside, alone at a 4-member table, clicking away at her phone.

 

Wendy feels her mobile vibrate again.  

 

 _(I think the rest of our group date members are shy, Wen-Wen! Joy’s trying to get them out of their car!)_  
Sender:  _Kang Seulgi_  
Received:  _7:02:36 PM_  
Received:  _12/17/15_

Wendy sees Joohyun’s apologetic smile, and she can already read the words about to leave her roommate’s lips, _“We can still go home, Wan.”_

She bites the bullet and hopes she won’t regret it.

 

“We’re already here, aren’t we?” Wendy says wistfully, matches Joohyun’s sheepish smile as they exit the black sedan.

 

She tucks away her phone into her pocket, follows Joy as Joohyun mimics her steps beside her. Wendy watches with dread crawling up her throat as Seulgi’s back looms closer, Joy pointing towards them – ushering Seulgi to turn around and when her close friend finally does, Wendy’s holding her breath; listening in for Joohyun’s reaction.

 

“Wendy? What are you…” Wendy watches the gears turn in Seulgi’s head, how her eyes widen in realization before her lips curl upwards into a beaming grin. “ _You’re_ the shy person in the car? Why didn’t you tell me?!” She squeals in glee, pulling her in for a giant hug, choking the oxygen out of her mouth.

 

Wendy’s sputtering incoherent syllables, vague mixtures of, _“I didn’t really know either,”_ and _“You’re choking me again –”_ before inhaling large batches of air to stop her head from spinning.

 

“You know each other?” Joy’s voice comes in between Seulgi’s hard slaps on her back.

 

“Yup – practically best friends,” Wendy hears Seulgi say as she wheezes out affirmations, a hand to her chest as she recovers from the crushing embrace.

 

“… So you must be the friend Seungwan was texting then,” Joohyun’s voice comes in like a speeding train, halting Wendy’s gasps for air completely as she looks up between a messy fringe and a stuttering heart. “I’m Joohyun. Her roommate,”

 

Seulgi’s eyes light up akin to the shimmering surface of clear water, brightening up not because of a lost love finally found, “Seulgi. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now,” she says with a gentle giggle, shaking Joohyun’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Wen’s charming roommate.”

 

Joohyun’s laughter is light and happy, reflecting the calmed storm in Wendy’s chest, “’Charming’?” She asks, baffled at the term, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

 

Wendy’s too busy being relieved (they don’t know each other – she was worried for nothing) to be embarrassed about Seulgi’s teasing and Joohyun’s playful glances.

 

The evening’s turning out to be fun once they’ve all settled down in their seats, Wendy sitting beside Joohyun with Seulgi just opposite of her. She grins at Joohyun’s and Seulgi’s blossoming friendship, their mischievous personalities coming to life like neon lights as they bounce back and forth between getting to know each other and poking at Wendy’s opinion of Joohyun.

 

Wendy’s surprised she’s not jealous of their immediate chemistry (she should be for how she conjured up images of them holding hands and the fear clasping at her mind like glue) but maybe it’s in the way Joohyun’s looking at Seulgi like how she looks at Joy that keeps her calm.

 

That, and how Joohyun reminds her that she’s there for her, lending her hand every time Wendy’s starting to tap at her watch, ushering her to count on her palm instead beneath the table.

 

Joohyun’s doing it again – making her feel more than she should.

 

But Wendy doesn’t listen to the rationale in her head, cradling Joohyun’s hand atop her lap, her finger comfortably counting her noises away (faster than any ‘clicks’ or ‘ticks’ could) and lets the warmth grow in her heart like sparklers of fireworks, scorching her into a ruin she knows she can’t get out of anymore.

 

Wendy resigns herself to Joohyun’s tender presence, knows how she’s stuck like gum in her hair.

 

And as Joohyun sends her a comforting smile, Wendy knows she doesn’t want to get out.

 

“I’m starving,” Joy says raising a hand and ushering a server to come by, “Anyone want chicken?” Wendy sees Joohyun stare at her, unimpressed. “… Other than Joohyun unnie?”

 

“I do!” Seulgi grins, childishly raising a hand.

 

Wendy laughs, joining in, raising her arm halfway, still feeling timid unlike the two bolder counterparts.

 

When a waitress comes by, passing each of them the menu, Wendy is flicking through the items one by one, looking for a particular dish that could settle the slight grumbles in her stomach.

 

She taps at a candidate, gesturing to Joohyun if she should get it, but falters at Joohyun’s startled look, as if she’s seen a ghost for how white – whiter than normal – her face is, the slight tinge of color Joohyun had fading from her expression akin to too much washing.

 

Wendy’s heart leaps at her throat, gnawing at the walls for how the waitress sounds like she’s seeing a love once long lost.

 

“… Irene unnie…?”

 

Wendy assumes it’s Joohyun from the way Joohyun’s expression cracks completely, revealing a vulnerable face under the calm mask she normally wears every day, showing up between rosey-pink hues of dawn and streaks of clouded grey dusk.  

 

Joohyun’s voice is as tattered as her eyes, “… Yerim,” she breathes out like nails are scratching at her throat, keeping it rasp and filled with a familiarity deeper than Wendy could count, too torn to be less than nothing and too hopeful to not be something.

 

Joy reigns them back in – or attempts to, listing off their orders and guessing Joohyun’s for how Joohyun won’t let her eyes leave the waitress, watching her as the server scribbles them down with ease of a practiced hand.

 

Wendy’s trying to bring Joohyun back, tapping her finger against her palm that’s suddenly cold beneath her touch. Joohyun doesn’t even glance at her.

 

“I’ll be back with your orders soon,” she says – _Yerim, was it?_ As her eyes flicker back to Joohyun one more time, a ghost of a smile painting her lips before she’s turning around and disappearing at the back.

 

No one asks Joohyun what all that was about, Joy and Seulgi trying to dissuade the tense air growing thicker each second as Joohyun remains silent, staring blankly at a speck of dust on the beige-clothed table.

 

Wendy intertwines their fingers together, forgets that she shouldn’t be this touchy for how much it tempts her to kiss Joohyun, but it’s not desire clutching at her throat, already far back into the depths of her heart as fear climbs up like a ghost in its stead – grabbing for life.

 

She tries not to let her voice sound as broken as the lyrics between each beat of her chest. “Hyun…”

 

Wendy remembers the first time she felt the same fear latch onto her like an iron grip.

 

_“…I won’t be able to let you go if you’re going to be like this,”_

 

Joohyun doesn’t move at her touch, her thumb drawing invisible circles across the back of her hand, urging her – _begging her_ to wake up; to come back to her like she wasn’t already gone.

 

_“… Don’t be like this to me, please…”_

Wendy tries not to think about how Joohyun’s leaving her behind.

 

-

 

Seungwan somehow manages to convince Seulgi and Sooyoung to leave first, Irene hearing Sooyoung’s wistful _“Goodbye unnie,”_ and Seulgi’s timid _“Nice meeting you,”_ before they disappear in fading steps, the clacks of their heels sounding smaller and smaller with the distance they continue to make.

 

Irene chooses to wait for _her,_ even when she doesn’t know when the girl gets off or gets her break. She asked Seungwan if she wanted to go home – that she could catch a ride with Sooyoung – but her roommate refused, adamant to not leave her behind.

 

Irene looks up when someone settles across from her, taking what was once Seulgi’s seat, Seungwan’s presence next to her calming the thrumming beats in her chest.

 

She tries not to wince at the sudden barrage of coffee kisses, vibrant red lipstick, and giant cheeky grins, the memories coming back with a vengeance as if she hadn’t thrown the key to the lock away.

 

Yerim still looks the same – how her wide eyes are still as bright as ever, a mischievous glint swirling amidst the pool of curiosity and innocence still painting her features, her signature copper-brown hair still as smooth as it looks (Irene wonders if it’s also as silky to the touch as she remembers), how her lips still quirk up a bit at the corners, a tiny indent too small to be a dimple but unique enough to still be Irene’s favorite part to kiss.

 

The silence isn’t unbearable.

 

Despite carrying the weight of unspoken words that are both too many to count, and too little to say, Irene doesn’t find it uncomfortable. Then again, maybe she’s too busy soaking in Yerim’s appearance (she’s here – she’s _actually here_ ), and can’t tell the difference between muted awkwardness and quiet longing.

 

There’s a lot of things Irene wants to say – things she wants to ask.

 

Things like: ‘How are you doing?’ ‘What’s new?’ ‘Where have you been?’ ‘Why did you leave me?’ ‘Do you think about me?’ – and everything else in between, from the moment Yerim said _“I love you,”_ to the time she walked out the door.

 

But all Irene manages to say despite the croak in her voice, feels a bit too little, a bit lacking – and even a bit too much, all at the same time.

 

“… I was hoping that the next time I saw you,” Irene starts, beginning where Joohyun ends. “… I wouldn’t be feeling like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

 

Her eyes never leave Yerim’s, watching how the girl’s breath hitches at her voice – _at her confession._

The chuckles that leave Irene’s lips are defeated and resigned, “… I’m not there yet.” She says, watching Yerim swallow a lump in her throat.

 

Irene wasn’t looking for her heart – she felt it was better to be without it; that she wouldn’t get hurt now that it was gone (haunting memories were easier to deal with – she knew she’d forget them eventually; forget how Yerim tasted like, sounded like, smelled like, looked like).

 

But Irene shouldn’t be surprised to find it still in the hands of someone she once considered home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … Yeah it’s not Seulgi. 
> 
> Okay, before you all shoot me with shotguns and puncture me with pitchforks and knives (and anything remotely sharp) for the fact that it’s Yeri and she is still a minor (at the time of this update), let me explain. 
> 
> 1) I like Yerene. Romantically, even. So I will write them.  
> 2) At best, mentions of Yeri and Irene’s moments together will be written vaguely, so nothing explicit will be shown or described, at all.   
> 3) I really like Yerene. 
> 
> … That’s it. Hope you all enjoyed this update.


	5. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Yerim speaks, her voice that same signature of soft velvet – smooth and tinkling of childish joy beneath a mask of early maturity, Irene remembers loving her.

When Yerim speaks, her voice that same signature of soft velvet – smooth and tinkling of childish joy beneath a mask of early maturity, Irene remembers loving her.

 

“… How are you, unnie?”

 

Irene attempts to discern her simple question amidst memory clouds of them holding hands, whispering nonsense like when the next sleepover would be, or when they should stop pretending like they weren’t interested in each other – hugging longer than friends should, staring longer than two girls would.

 

She shrugs a little, “The usual,” her steady reply hides the quake in her heart, crossing her arms, feigning indifference. “… Smoking cigarettes,”

 

_So I’d forget about you._

 

It bothers her how she immediately looks away once her words leave her lips, attempt to look at anywhere else but at Yerim because Irene’s afraid to see what’s being painted in pools of warm brown.

 

The disapproval bleeds out of Yerim’s voice, lovingly strict. “That’s not good, unnie.”

 

“Did you really expect anything different?” Irene scoffs, eyes swiveling dangerously back at the younger girl, bitter at the taste of affection lingering across her tongue at Yerim’s concern.

 

She could feel Yerim’s words seep through her, caressing skin and breaking her shield (that was more of a window than a barrier), playing with the strings of her lips, taunting her of the idea that Yerim cares – that she _still cares about her._

 

“… No,” Yerim mutters, glancing down, her fingers clasping at a napkin, fiddling with the ends of the material. “You’ve always been stubborn.”

 

Irene watches the familiar habit of Yerim needing to twiddle with something to keep her nerves occupied; to keep herself relaxed – it’s oddly comforting. To see that something as mundane as a nervous tick helps Irene stay calm, knowing something hasn’t changed even when they did.

 

“… I’m glad you’re still stubborn,” Yerim murmurs, as if in afterthought – as if the familiarity keeps Yerim anchored too. Irene’s not sure how to feel about that; she’s not sure she was even meant to hear it.

 

Irene attempts to swallow the cluster of want in her throat.

 

“What about you?” Irene asks, covering the broken croak with a cough behind a hand, “How are you…?”

 

Yerim’s small smile still takes Irene’s breath away. She knows by how her chest still stutters to a pause, wisps of life slipping past Irene’s lips for someone who still has her heart in her hands.

 

“… I’m okay. I’m working now,” the younger girl says, curling a stray strand of copper behind her ear. Irene wishes she had done it for her instead, “I’m getting by,”

 

Irene swallows so her throat isn’t dry. “That’s good,”

 

It gets quiet.

 

Yerim’s still twiddling with the cloth on the table, Seungwan staying eerily mute beside her. The silence flits by as Irene holds herself tighter, pretend she’s not affected by Yerim’s presence – that she’s not broken. But she knows Yerim knows better – she always does.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name,” Yerim speaks again, her eyes settled on Seungwan. “I’m Yerim, but you can call me Yeri.” She says as she lifts a hand for a handshake, “Irene unnie here just doesn’t like calling me by my preferred name,” she attempts to make the atmosphere lighthearted, finishing off with a playful wink Irene’s way and Irene has to look elsewhere so her lungs won’t be squeezed of oxygen completely.

 

Her murmur comes out shy. “Only because you said you…” Irene wants to refute, say it’s because _you like it when I’m the only one who can,_ but keeps her mouth shut. It’s not something one would mention in front of someone they just met anyway.

 

“It’s Wendy,” Seungwan replies with a smile of her own, Irene recognizing the lack of her usual stuttering, taking Yerim’s hand and giving a firm shake. “Just Wendy is fine.”

 

It doesn’t escape Irene that she doesn’t mention her other name.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Yerim says once they’ve settled their hands back to their usual routine of fiddling with the wristwatch and tablecloth. “How’d you two meet?” Yerim starts, her ease of making conversation falling in line once again.

 

Irene leans back, lets Seungwan take the lead because she needs to reign herself back in; sort out the gaggle of emotions filtering through her in streams. She’s happy, nervous, relieved, and anxious, all at the same time.

 

“We’re roommates,” Seungwan answers before Irene notices she’s tapping away on her wristwatch beneath the table. _She’s thinking again._

 

It’s automatic when Irene uncurls her arms, offers Seungwan her hand, smiling instinctively at the soft feel of Seungwan’s finger touching her palm. Irene doesn’t realize she’s being watched until she looks back at Yerim, sees the younger girl attempt to hide her grimace with a weak grin.

 

“I’m jealous,” Irene finds herself hanging on to every word leaving Yerim’s lips despite knowing the double meaning beneath. She feels something akin to hope latch onto her throat as the younger girl leans in, settles her hands so they interlace; as if interviewing them. “What’s it like?”

 

Yerim’s always been a smart girl, quick on her feet, highly intuitive. Irene knows when she’s being interrogated for information; knows when the girl is feeling jealous (Irene can see how Yerim’s jaw tenses). But she shouldn’t be. _Not when she left me._

They need to stop dancing around the issue (Irene can’t bring herself to admit that she alone has been delaying the inevitable), to stop pretending like there’s nothing wrong; that there’s nothing wrong with this picture.

 

“W-Well, it’s like –” Seungwan begins, unsure, but cuts short when Irene intercepts, easing Seungwan’s stumble with a squeeze of her hand.

 

“It’s like having someone to remind you that it’s okay to feel like you have no home,” Irene says, manages to let her words spill without pause despite the stutters in her chest, “Because they’ll make you feel at home eventually.”

 

Seungwan’s fingers fill the spaces between hers, lacing their skins together, and Irene vaguely wonders if it’s okay to be thinking about her roommate (think about the way Seungwan settles the thrum in her chest, the noises in her head) when she’s still looking at Yerim.

 

“That’s cute, unnie. But you shouldn’t,” Yerim replies, frighteningly steady that Irene ponders if she’s the only one who still feels like there’s something left for them. “…You shouldn’t make someone your home.”

 

“Like how I made you mine?” Irene quips, quick with her words, her mind only processing each syllable once it’s already out of her lips.

 

She spots Yerim hold her breath from the way her chest lifts and Irene avoids her eyes, unable to bring herself to see broken pools of brown that she’s grown accustomed to seeing only in dreams.

 

Irene looks at Seungwan for peace, something she would’ve already felt from Yerim a long time ago.

 

“… Yeah,”

 

“Is that why you left me?”

 

“No,”

 

“Then why?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Yerim waves a dismissive hand, seemingly indifferent, and it sparks a crippling ember into fire in Irene’s chest. “We’re over already, aren’t we?”

 

Irene doesn’t realize her hands have become fists until Seungwan’s drawing soothing circles across her skin, easing the tension off her muscles, allowing her fingers to uncurl so they’re no longer hurting Seungwan.

 

Her apology slips past her lips faster than her mind could process it, Irene’s whisper already flitting just next to Seungwan’s ear, her instinctive, _Sorry, are you okay?_ filling the quiet amidst the tension building up between the three of them.

 

Irene doesn’t notice it until Yerim’s cutting words across the air, “Looks like you already got that part down, unnie.” It spills like poison, shredding off warm lines from their storybook that Irene still flips the pages to.

 

“Not as fast as you did a year ago,” she snaps back quickly, unable to control the blaze burning through her limbs, her nerves beginning to quake in anger Irene so desperately tried to keep silent.

 

Yerim scoffs, “So it’s true then?” she asks with tinges of fear Irene’s not accustomed to hearing, masked under cool indifference with the way Yerim’s jaw keeps tight. “She better not be a rebound,”

 

“Seungwan deserves someone who’s not broken,” Irene retorts, watches Yerim’s eyes flicker to her roommate, almost as if confused for a moment, but Irene pays no heed. “I’m not that person.” _I’m not letting her get cut fixing me._

 

Yerim’s silence unnerves her because Irene’s not sure where the wounds will come next, where she’ll hit and if she could absorb any more of the impact. She catches Yerim scrutinize Seungwan a little longer, as if trying to decipher whatever’s behind similar brown eyes, so Irene pulls her closer, to shield Seungwan from Yerim’s sharp gaze so she’ll look at her instead.

 

“… My family’s my home.” Yerim speaks after the quiet settles and the tension falls into the background, tucking it away for later, switching lanes back to the core of why their story still has a jagged ending. “I’d rather disappoint myself than disappoint the ones who love me,”

 

Irene watches her stand, like the fight has left her so that responsibility and obligations can ebb away at her shoulders; press her down in expectations of what should make a normal family. _Lesbians aren’t part of that equation._

 

Panic crawls into her throat, attempting to close it up but Irene lets her worry slip, “If they love you, they wouldn’t let you be anyone else but yourself.”

 

“Tell that to parents who’ve disowned their kids,”

 

Irene winces at the comment, knows how much it’s true, grimacing at a memory of her father’s shouts, at nightmares (that were really just the past) of packing what she could into a worn down purple backpack.

 

Yerim had kept her company, played as a gentle solace as they looked for an apartment together, finding a place where Irene could stay and still be close to family and Yerim. The old apartment itself hadn’t been bad – it was just the roommate.

 

Irene knows 34th street is just a few blocks away from it, unable to make distance from the people she still can’t help but love. “ _Don’t worry Joohyun unnie, I wouldn’t want you to move too far from me either,”_ Irene feels a growing smile at the memory of Sooyoung’s words, remembers the taller girl’s crushing hug as Irene signed the papers for her new apartment on 34th street.

 

She watches Yerim adjust the bowtie around her collar, watches how copper hair circles her cheeks, frame her face – _still steal Irene’s breath away_ , before she begins to stride back to work, attempt to pass Irene without so much as a wavering glance, smiling faintly at Seungwan beside her.

 

Irene grabs her wrist before she gets to, laces her fingers around thin bones so Yerim wouldn’t leave, as if afraid she’d disappear again – that maybe this would be the last time she’d ever see her (she knows this is silly because all she’d need to do was visit this restaurant again).

 

Her voice comes out as scratchy as the moment she saw Yerim again, “Then let me be –”

 

_Let me be your home,_

 

Irene’s ears ring as Yerim leans down, kissing the corner of her lips, hushes Irene completely with the way her mouth lingers even when she speaks. Yerim’s whisper thread Irene’s skin in silk, answering her as if she had read what Irene had in mind.

 

“… Then I’d never want to leave.” Yerim’s touch is akin to feather brushes, her words seeping warmth into Irene’s rigid spirit, “That’s more terrifying than pretending I’m just like everyone else.” Irene can feel her grip weaken, her fingers losing its hold from Yerim’s soft lips, frozen as her former lover etches lava across skin she used to kiss. “… and I’m scared of how much I love you.” Her quiet murmur ignites the strings wrapped around Irene’s throat, setting her words free – _I still love you too_ , and it almost does until Yerim’s pulling away.

 

“Yeri, your break’s over!” Someone yells over the counter, Yerim’s immediate reply of “ _Coming!”_ breaking the tiny bubble acting as Irene’s window for her confession a year overdue.

 

Irene stands, tightens her hold, managing to have Yerim still, desperate for the girl to look at her. Yerim keeps from meeting her gaze, looking at anything else of interest and Irene swallows the nerves in her throat, attempts to will away the pulsing relief rising in her chest at Yerim’s wordy version of a simple _‘I love you’_.

 

“When do you get off? I’ll drive you home,” Irene almost winces at the hopeful lilt in her own voice, how it trickles out like rippling water, poignant desire for a past she still wants.

 

Irene holds her breath as she waits, oxygen filling her lungs once Yerim mutters _11 o’clock,_ before she unclasps Irene’s fingers with a gentle hand. She attempts to leave, but Irene holds onto it just a little longer, lets Yerim’s heat meld into her own before Yerim tugs so she lets go, a wistful smile pulling at her lips before she fades back into the kitchen.

 

When Seungwan brings her back from Yerim’s fleeting warmth in the form of tender tapping against her palm, Irene remembers there's still Seungwan; how she had just been present to watch every exchange – been present to hear every word.

 

"Um, sorry," Irene begins, suddenly shy for all the things that occurred over the span of a few minutes. "I, uh, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

 

Seungwan's smile is radiant even without the shimmer of pearly whites, rubbing circles over her skin, ripping away the tensions in Irene’s limbs.

 

"It's okay, I'm glad you talked it out." Seungwan says as she guides Irene back down to sit, "I guess we can't really eat anymore since we've paid already right?" Her laughter only manages to light up guilt in Irene’s chest despite her roommate's notion to ease the specks of drama lingering in the air.

 

"Oh, um, are you still hungry?" Irene attempts to raise a hand, call a server over, "I'll pay for you – I didn't mean to make you wait this long; do you want to go home?" She doesn't mean to ramble on; her words just spill through, feeling bad for making her roommate go through this with her, making her wait. _How inconsiderate._

 

"I'm kidding, Hyun." Seungwan says, pulling back Irene's hand, "And I do, just..." Irene feels her brow rise at Seungwan's quiet murmur, leaning closer so she could hear better. "...Just as long as I get to go home with you."

 

Irene can feel her cheeks flare up even when she knows what Seungwan means; _I'll wait for you._ So she does what she does best, turning away so Seungwan can't see her blush, avoid the issue (was it even an issue?) so it doesn’t get any bigger.

 

The heat only rises up further when Seungwan giggles against her shoulder, muffled laughter worming its way through Irene’s jacket and into her skin. It doesn't help that Irene is suddenly keenly aware of their fingers still interlaced together, Seungwan's ritual tapping having stopped the moment Seungwan smiled at her.

 

Irene doesn't remember their fingers sliding to hide the spaces in between, doesn’t remember how it has gotten so natural that it just comes as easy as the air that enters her lungs. It’s sort of nice.

 

Even when she knows her heart is still several paces away from her, taking orders and sharing smiles with strangers that come and go, Irene doesn’t feel as empty knowing Seungwan’s laughter replaces memory aches for reddish hues on her face instead.

 

-

 

She’s beautiful.

 

It’s one of the thoughts that run constant through Wendy’s head as she watches Joohyun look at Yeri like how she imagined love would be. It’s in the way Joohyun’s lips twitch to smile, as if unsure whether she should show her former lover (it felt more like a waiting lover) how happy she is to see her.

 

Wendy allows the image to sink in, swallow her in depths of perfection personified. Joohyun is really beautiful.

 

“Got everything?” Joohyun’s voice is heavenly – it didn’t take long for Wendy to notice how she’s gotten softer, calmer, gentler, from the way her eyes follow Yeri like a moon, lighting her way with touches of affection lingering in wisps of tender hands curling Yeri’s checkered pattern scarf around the girl’s neck.

 

Wendy wants to look away at Joohyun’s growing smile aimed for someone who isn’t her. She doesn’t remember ever seeing this kind of smile – the one where Joohyun’s singing love songs in the form of steady gazes and warm words.

 

“Y-Yeah, thanks unnie.” Yeri’s stutter is equivalent to the broken rhythm in Wendy’s chest as Joohyun helps the younger girl slip her purple mittens on, watches how their hands brush together like they’re magnets, lingering longer than it should.

 

Her emotions are clustered inside a chamber with thorns for its walls, breaking it apart when it hits a corner and meshing strings of feelings together in ways that make Wendy equal parts angry, sad, and confused, all at once.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – three,_

Just as soon as her finger starts to make numbers against her watch, Wendy feels warmth take her hand, envelope her in pictures of Joohyun with that smile that has her heart running away.

 

“Let’s go home,” Joohyun says, pulling her close so she’ll be right beside her.

 

This must be love, Wendy thinks, from the way Joohyun makes sure she doesn’t leave her behind, guiding her like a lighthouse, drawing a path for her to walk on where she’s not alone.

 

It gets a little troubling when they make it to the car, unsure of who sits at the passenger’s seat. Wendy assumes it’ll be for the girlfriend (ex?) and attempts to clutch the handle for the backseat when Yeri beats her to it, a tentative curve adorning her lips.

 

“Did you want to sit at the back instead?” Wendy’s flustered at Yeri’s question, not knowing what to do with her hands as she shakes her head, dismissing her inquiry with oversized blue mittens dangling at the tips of her fingers.

 

“O-Oh, no, I just – I thought…” _… you’d sit with Joohyun,_

 

“Hey, are you two okay over there?” Joohyun’s busy fiddling with the dashboard, her voice muffled by the walls of the interior, the open door playing as the only tunnel for sound.

 

“We’re good, unnie.”

 

Yeri’s already halfway into her seat when Wendy chooses to turn back around, pulling at the passenger’s handle, not quite sure what just happened. Did Yeri not want to be next to Joohyun?

 

Wendy lets the thought hide away behind a mass of other questions that she has no answer to, filling the nooks and cranny in her head, as they make it past swaying tree branches and raining snow; Yeri and Joohyun’s conversations remaining lighthearted ( _“Do you really have to smoke, unnie?” “Yes,”_ ).

 

Relatively.

 

She jumps at the muted vibration, digging through her pocket before flicking her phone open.

 

 _(Hey wanna catch a movie tomorrow night? We haven’t hung out in a while and seeing you made it that much more obvious!)_  
Sender:  _Kang Seulgi_  
Received:  _11:27:19 PM_  
Received:  _12/17/15_

Wendy grins at the message, thankful for the distraction, typing away a quick reply because she misses spending time with Seulgi too (she vaguely wonders if it’s because it’s no longer just her and Joohyun anymore, with Yeri seemingly back in the picture).

 

 _(Sure. Can we have dinner afterwards too?)_  
Sender:  _Son Seungwan Wendy_  
Received:  _11:28:05 PM_  
Received:  _12/17/15_

It’s been awhile since she ate out with Seulgi (not counting their group date of course), and Wendy figures she should catch up with her friend; make time for others who are not Joohyun – though it prickles at her chest a little at the thought of not eating with her roommate. Should she invite Joohyun too?

 

When her phone signals again, Wendy clicks the envelope icon open as Yeri refreshes Joohyun’s memory of the streets to her house, Wendy’s laughter mingling with their childish banter ( _“Turn right over there,” “Here?” “No! That’s a creepy alleyway, unnie!” “Sounds about right.” “Unnie!”_ ).

 

For all their history together, shrouded in fog of things Wendy doesn’t understand and doesn’t know much about (she’s not sure how many scars have yet to heal or how many words have been left unsaid), it still manages to feel warm. Despite the circumstance, it’s rather comfortable.

 

 _(Of course! I’ll let you know more tomorrow. It’s a date then._ _J_ _)_  
Sender:  _Kang Seulgi_  
Received:  _11:30:01 PM_  
Received:  _12/17/15_

Wendy chuckles at the smiley face, shrugging off Seulgi’s antics with a quick flip of her phone, shoving the device back into the crook of her pocket as Joohyun pulls up at a curb beside a little home, a cozy shade of brown and beige, yellow lights streaking along the edges of curtained windows.

 

She hears unclasping metal behind her, the seatbelt whizzing back against the leather chair as Yeri pushes the door open. Wendy catches her smile.

 

“Thanks unnie,” she says before giving Wendy a passing wave, a quiet murmur of _“Nice meeting you,”_ leaving her lips until she spins on her heel to head towards her doorstep.

 

The car doesn’t motion to exit until Yeri sends them one more goodbye before disappearing behind a closing door, Wendy raising a hesitant hand to return it as Joohyun presses the gas and they’re back on the road again.

 

She tries to see if Joohyun’s okay (tries to make sure her roommate’s brevity of calm is exactly that), flitting side glances every two minutes, keeping discreet with her overhanging fringe as mobile walls to stave off scrutiny.

 

Joohyun doesn’t seem affected – doesn’t seem _broken._

 

She doesn’t look shattered into pieces left strewn about on a marble floor – not like the heroines Wendy thought would be in books about a fading lover. But maybe it’s because there’s still hope with Yeri and Wendy’s terrified of how much she wants to rip the wings off of happiness that’s latching onto Joohyun’s back in the form of relaxed shoulders and a wistful smile.

 

Wendy curls against the window, brings her arms around herself so she can’t reach out and clip off colors of laughter from Joohyun’s lips, can’t wrench away a dream her roommate’s been chasing after for so long (not when it’s no longer just in her head anymore in footsteps of slumber).

 

If it’s bliss that’s bleeding out of her roommate’s mouth in a hum to a rhythm of a song that’s not about heartbreak (Wendy turns away from watching Joohyun’s finger tap along to a beat in her head), then it’s despair in all its claw-like glory, scathing along the chambers of Wendy’s heart to remind her that there’s a monster lurking between the crevices of her lyrics – darkening her chest’s pounding melody.

 

If Joohyun’s getting fixed, closing old wounds, then Wendy’s breaking open, cutting at the seams of injuries still healing ( _“Seungwan, come home,”_ ). Joohyun’s getting better while she’s still stuck in a time loop of running away ( _“We miss you, Seungwan.”_ ); and it’s never ending – like a frozen hour glass.

 

Wendy doesn’t like being lonely.

 

“It was her,” Joohyun says, ridding the smoke beginning to shield Wendy’s eyes of thoughts more obsidian than its usual clarity, “At the supermarket.”

 

“Oh?” Wendy tries to keep the growl from escaping her lips, knows she shouldn’t be feeling so bitter – so petulant. “So?”

 

If Joohyun noticed the scalding tone in her voice, how it cuts sharper – lacking the usual softness at the edges of each syllable, she doesn’t show it.

 

“I wanted to make sure, so I helped her put them on.” Wendy doesn’t understand what the taller woman is referring to until Joohyun gestures to her blue gloves. “The checkered scarf and purple mittens; they’re the same ones.”

 

Wendy almost scowls at the reminder – of how Joohyun had run off the instant she noticed something familiar from a past Wendy suddenly wanted to erase completely.

 

She squeezes her eyes shut once she registers the dagger of thoughts cutting away in her head, attempt to will away how her heart feels heavier, how it feels like it’s sinking deeper into a black hole and tearing away what makes her _good._

_Don’t think like this,_

Wendy hums, her only form of acknowledgement, not trusting herself to speak, afraid that the only thing that will spill from her lips will be varying degrees of hurt and anger and frustration – everything that shouldn’t even be. Joohyun deserves better.

 

“Is it bad?” Joohyun’s question doesn’t fall on deaf ears, even when Wendy’s trying to stop the noises in her head – stop the monster rising in her chest. “That even when I know why she left me, I still can’t forgive her for it?”

 

Wendy looks up, startled at the way Joohyun’s voice cracks even when her words don’t – betraying all the signs of quiet strength the taller woman had, revealing them for what they really are.

 

“… Is it bad that I still want her?” Joohyun asks, like she’s afraid of the answer from the way her finger continues its tapping on the wheel, the image now looking more like jittery nerves than a rhythm to a song.

 

She mistook Joohyun’s muted understanding for blissful happiness instead.

 

Wendy wonders – as Joohyun keeps her eyes on the road, seemingly unperturbed of her silence, like she was expecting it and had merely wanted to let her know of how she felt – if it’s bad that she feels relieved instead of sympathetic for Joohyun’s plight.

 

How the anger and frustration and hurt is suddenly quelled by the frailty of Joohyun’s heart – drenching the fire of despair in her own by the sound of broken love in Joohyun’s.

 

Wendy curls her fingers against her sleeves, nails digging deeper so it’d make indents against her skin. She punishes herself; she shouldn’t be thinking like this – shouldn’t be feeling so happy about the sadness she hears in Joohyun’s voice. She shouldn’t be content to hear Joohyun’s still broken.

_You monster,_

 

She reaches out, grasps Joohyun’s free hand and smiles at the way her roommate instinctively curls their fingers together, holding onto her like she was Joohyun’s life support. Wendy’s scared of how it makes her smile, how being Joohyun’s pillar of strength makes her overwhelmingly giddy. _How disgusting,_

 

She attempts to scold herself in her head, _Don’t think like this – stop it,_ but it still falls short, the kinder half of her heart getting swallowed up in swirls of selfish desire clutching for life and control. It terrifies her.

 

The whirring engine of Joohyun’s car play as background noise to their silence; Joohyun’s hand drawing heat against her skin. Wendy likes this.

 

In the back of her mind, Wendy wonders if it’s bad to be a monster.

 

-

 

“Goodnight,” she says, a gentle smile curving across her lips as Joohyun returns it with a curl of her own, a small tilt on the corners of her mouth.

 

Wendy watches her roommate disappear behind her bedroom door before she spins on her heel to enter her own, turning the dial so it locks – 43 times. Once the final click settles the itchy habit thrumming her veins, Wendy gets ready for bed.

 

She doesn’t like what she has become; doesn’t like how this feral want for Joohyun has torn away whatever compassion she had that made her who she was. As a friend, shouldn’t she be comforting Joohyun? Shouldn’t she be just as sad as her – share her hurt and relinquish the pain from pools of broken brown?

 

Shouldn’t she _not_ be happy that Joohyun’s aching for a love that’s close enough to touch but still too far to really have?

 

Her feet take her to stand in front of her mirror, recognizes the blue roommate sweater ( _couple shirt_ ) adorning her figure, long enough for the bottom edges to dangle over her thighs. But even when Wendy knows she should be staring at herself, she doesn’t see her reflection – doesn’t see the kindness that Wendy knows should be there.

 

She turns away, crouches down – shutting her eyes and covering her ears as if it’ll help make the monster in her mirror go away. _Go away. Go away. Go away!_

 

Her fingers tremor for her watch, immediately tapping away.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick – three,_

 

Wendy jumps at the sound of breaking glass, _crack,_ puncturing through her walls and bedroom door like a spear through her heart – forcing it to a pause; silencing the noises in her head.

 

She waits with a breath still stuck between the nerves in her throat, briefly wonders if she had misheard until the sound comes back louder – mixtures of crushing glass and Joohyun’s broken screams of anger makes Wendy stagger to a stand, stumbling to unlock the door to her bedroom because Joohyun is in pain and she could feel her _bleed._

 

Wendy rushes across the living room, tripping on strings of fear and worry for Joohyun, the panic only rising faster when she makes it to her door, shaking the knob just to find it still locked.

 

“Joohyun!” It scares her when all she hears are more sounds of crashing glass and Joohyun’s frustrated growls, “Joohyun! Open the door!”

 

The clinking of broken wood and metal and glass pauses completely, allowing Wendy to finally breathe – have a moment of reprieve from the terror clutching at her chest.

 

Joohyun’s labored breathing is the only sound Wendy could recognize. She hears how her huffs come out heavy – her throat noticeably raspy, choked of air.

 

Wendy attempts to usher Joohyun out, terrified at the thought that her roommate may have deliberately hurt herself.

 

“Joohyun –”

 

“Sorry, I'll be quieter." Her words are steady but Wendy can hear how it shakes at the corners, barely masking the agony oozing out like blood from an open wound. "...So go to sleep okay?"

 

Her tired whisper manages to make it past the wooden door. What used to be relief for a torn Joohyun quickly becomes crushing guilt, rendering her limbs suddenly immobile at the weight of it all; having to need to rest her hands on the wall of her door, keep herself upright.

 

And to think Joohyun still looks out for her wellbeing.

 

Wendy tries not to let the tears reach her voice, "I'm sorry," _for not being there for you – for being happy because you're not._

 

She hears Joohyun approach the door and Wendy momentarily thinks she'll open it for her until a sound akin to sliding material scratches the surface of the wall wedged between them. Wendy imagines Joohyun sitting with her back against the door, head lolled so the entrance plays as her headrest.

 

"... You're like a walking apology," Joohyun's chuckle comes out wistful, attempting to make the mood lighter. "You're always sorry for something even when you shouldn't be," Wendy shakes her head even when she knows Joohyun can't see, her hands curling into fists for the fact that there's still something keeping them apart. "What are you sorry for now, Wan?" It’s not accusatory – in fact, it sounds a mixture of curiosity and empathy.

 

Wendy almost lets it slip, _For wanting you to hurt so I could be the one to fix you,_ but it sounds horrible and selfish even in her own head, so she settles for a different truth that still manages to carry the monster as a whole, instead.

 

“… For not being a good friend,”

 

Joohyun’s laugh a second later is filled with disbelief, as if the thought was absurd and Wendy wishes she could be proud of Joohyun’s positive impression of her. If only Joohyun knew how her mind worked the moment Yeri came back into the picture, then she wouldn’t be questioning her seemingly out-of-the-blue apology.

 

“You’re right,” Wendy almost chokes on a stuttered heart at the curt truth seeping from Joohyun’s lips. “You cook for me even when you don’t need to, keep me company even when you don’t have to – you’re more than I could ever ask for.” Her vision blurs as she slides down, lets her knees rest on the cold floor, her ear pressing against the door, unable to believe the white lies Joohyun is telling her (they can’t be the truth – she doesn’t deserve it). “… Sounds more like ‘perfect’, to me.”

 

And to think she wanted to chop off whatever happiness Joohyun had before. She’s a monster.

 

“Go sleep,” Joohyun says again, the cracks around the edges of her voice gone, masked by a false sense of strength through authority. “I’ll be okay,” Wendy hears slinking metal before she smells wafts of a lit cigarette filter through the edges of the door, “… Just not tonight.”

 

Wendy doesn’t have the heart to remind her that smoking isn’t allowed in the building (she’s sure Joohyun’s aware of it anyway), but it still doesn’t sit well with her how Joohyun’s smoking her life away, letting toxin etch off whatever time she has left. But how could she correct Joohyun when she’s doing it to take the pain away? Something that Wendy herself should’ve provided for her instead in the first place?

 

“I don’t hear you walking back to your room, Wan.” Joohyun speaks again, half lighthearted and half reprimanding. “Go sleep, or else I won’t join you.”

 

Wendy’s left sputtering syllables indiscernible, surprised at the sudden notion that Joohyun would be sharing her bed with her again. She had it as a plan (make her sleep and ease the black circles away), but she certainly didn’t tell Joohyun of it – and since when did her roommate even want to? Was it even want, or was Joohyun trying to tempt her into leaving her behind to wallow in her own pool of tears she has in acts of puffs from cigarettes?

 

“Don’t like sleeping with me, Wan?” The amusement doesn’t escape Wendy’s hearing, how Joohyun’s precious laughter clutches at the lobes of her ears.

 

For all the frightening discord lining Wendy’s limbs and thoughts in the form of selfish want – _and dark, dark thoughts_ , it’s the first time she’s felt them settle into a quiet hum, no longer prickling at her heart at the sound of a sliver of true happiness circling the edges of Joohyun’s voice.

 

Wendy tries not to let a drop of hope spill from her lips. “… Just make sure you’ll be there soon, okay?” She’s proud for the lack of red coloring her cheeks (but at the same time it just means things aren’t quite the same at the moment) before rising to stand on tired feet.

 

She only receives a croaky, _“Yeah,”_ as a reply before Wendy decides she’ll take Joohyun’s little white lie and pretend it’s the truth.

 

Wendy makes sure her door stays open (makes sure Joohyun knows she’s waiting for her), ignoring the aching itch to shut it to a lock, gripping her jittery fingers to still beside her as she snuggles into the covers of her bed, attempt to find warmth that was nothing compared to Joohyun’s arms.

 

It’s only when Wendy’s been watching the clock on her nightstand tick time away for another round of 60 seconds – _an hour and 25 minutes,_ since she had heard Joohyun’s false promise (Wendy believes it’s false because here she still is; _alone_ ) – that she feels heat wrap around her waist, slithering of strong arms under her own, curling warmth at her back.

 

Wendy holds her breath as Joohyun’s voice mingles with the skin at her nape, her strands of brown hair acting as poor barriers to Joohyun’s hot lips trailing wisps for the syllables it makes.

 

“I didn’t mean to take so long,” Joohyun murmurs against her, Wendy feeling every word, her nerves jumping at every breath washing against the back of her neck.

 

Her fingers instinctively look for Joohyun’s, finding them nestled around her stomach, but instead of soft skin, Wendy feels cotton. She attempts to see in the dark, lifting it and finding outlines of a material wrapped tightly around Joohyun’s hands.

 

“… Remind me not to bother picking up broken picture frames next time,” Joohyun laughs, managing to sound equal parts sheepish and bitter at the same time.

 

Wendy almost turns around (forgets that Joohyun’s spooning her and that fact alone should be coloring her red), attempt to at least scold her for such carelessness until Joohyun’s holding her tighter, burying her face deeper into the smaller woman’s hair, breaths seeping hotter into Wendy’s skin.

 

“J-Joohyun –” She attempts to wriggle out so she could look at her, hold her too because –

 

“Don’t.” Joohyun cuts in, a hushed growl breaking free between gnashed teeth. “… Not when I’m like this.”

 

Wendy doesn’t understand what she means until she feels her skin absorb drops of pain Joohyun is determined to keep hidden from her, feels the taller woman’s tears make haven against the back of her neck, easing into the spaces between her bones.

 

She had only seen Joohyun cry once – the moment she had presented her the homebrew coffee. But this was entirely different, because she could _feel_ her tears – feel them cradle her heart and swallow it into an abyss of grief that Wendy had wanted so much for Joohyun to sink and drown in.

 

_You monster,_

Wendy squeezes her eyes shut, feels water of guilt pool beneath her eyelids and leans back into Joohyun’s touch – hoping her presence eases the turmoil crashing through Joohyun. She doesn’t trust her voice, doesn’t trust herself to speak because she can’t make up for all the horrible things she had wished upon Joohyun.

 

She whispers apologies from every action she makes, grasping Joohyun’s hands, making sure she’s gentle so whatever cuts Joohyun has beneath crisp bandages don’t burn more than it already has.

 

Joohyun has scars for skin.

 

They don’t say anything after that.

 

It’s during this silence that Wendy notes how she doesn’t smell the stench of smoke, how it isn’t clinging onto Joohyun’s clothes or even in the puffs of life she breathes – lacking the signature phantom hands of a cigarette. In fact, she’d dare say it’s a mixture of mint and fabric softener, and Wendy wants to laugh at the irony of it all.

 

To think: quiet, calm, collected – _broken,_ Joohyun went so far as to make sure she was clear of any lingering smoke (Wendy sees the faint color of pink of Joohyun’s roommate sweater covering half of Joohyun’s bandaged hand) in the form of clean clothes and fresh pearly whites, Wendy feels all the more regretful.

 

_“I didn’t mean to take so long,”_

So that was what she meant.

 

Wendy recognizes how Joohyun’s breath steadies to a constant rhythm 30 minutes after, and she’s relieved that her roommate could finally rest. Nestling back deeper so Joohyun’s warmth envelopes her completely, she attempts to slumber.

 

Wendy sleeps dreaming of alternate realities where Joohyun would finally forgive her and hopes she won’t wake up to one where she doesn’t.

 

-

 

Her fingers strum the final chord to a song she only remembers in her chest, transcribed between each beat of her heart, allowing the melody to drawl on until it fades beneath the echo of Joohyun’s footsteps.

 

Wendy had woken up to an empty bed, the sight startling her into a jolt of panic, automatically carrying her into the living room only to see Joohyun settled comfortably on the couch – casually folding laundry as she scowled at a drama on the television.

 

She hadn’t known how to approach her roommate then – was she supposed to act normal? Act like nothing happened? Or be more sentimental – give her a hug or something?

 

_“The TV is over there, Wan.” Joohyun had said, amused, a smirk beginning to line a corner of her lips and Wendy had immediately looked away – flustered at getting caught. “Come here,” she continued on, patting the space beside her, before placing a set of clean clothes atop Wendy’s lap. “This show is terrible but at least we’re getting things done, right?”_

Wendy had noted the small smile curving across Joohyun’s face, her eyes shimmering – all knowing; and Wendy knew then that whatever happened last night was done and over with; that it was time to move on – that Joohyun had made peace with herself.

 

Wendy had grinned back before taking the red hoodie on her lap and had begun to fold its sleeves together.

 

“Need a ride?” Joohyun calls over her shoulder, her arms up to tie her hair into a ponytail.

 

It turned out that she wasn’t the only one with plans for today. Joohyun had booked another outing with Joy – something about the other girl needing to vent out her frustrations about work.

 

_“I’m apparently a wall that’s also a vortex,” Wendy had raised a brow at the odd description, Joohyun’s lighthearted laughter filling the crevices in her ears. “Sooyoung said that for a wall, I at least don’t bounce back her complaints – her fancy way of saying that I’m a good listener.” Joohyun had said, waving a dismissive hand before disappearing into the bathroom to shower._

“No, it’s okay,” Wendy says, padding towards the door to settle her guitar back in its stand as Joohyun adjusts the knot on her hair. “Seulgi is picking me up so we could go together.”

 

Joohyun hums, a thoughtful tune to let Wendy know she’s heard as she reaches for her coat, looping her arms through the sleeves of the grey material. Wendy idles close to her, automatically offering to help by how her fingers are already grasping at the buttons to fill them in their respective sockets.

 

Wendy doesn’t realize she’s playing a role that’s more than roommates – _maybe even more than friends,_ until her hands bump into Joohyun’s fingers attempting to button the remaining few on top.

 

The heat that flushes warmth at their touch is equivalent to the one rising above Wendy’s neck, hovering just shy of her eyes, coloring her cheeks in savory hues of pink. She makes sure to avoid Joohyun’s gaze as she pulls away, taking back hands that still manage to both be calmly accustomed to feeling Joohyun’s skin and jittery in glee like a girl with a Valentine crush.

 

“Okay,” Joohyun says simply before wrapping a red scarf around her neck, “And what song were you playing? I didn’t catch the whole thing, but it sounded nice.” Wendy’s head spins back up, startled at the excitement suddenly fiddling with the strings in her chest as Joohyun pats down on the red material. “Will you play it again for me when we’re both home tonight?” She finishes with a disarming smile, slivers of white peeking between plump lips.

 

The word ‘home’ doesn’t slip past her as Wendy grins, unable to control the happiness suddenly coursing through her veins at the thought of Joohyun noticing the song that has been stuck in her heart the moment her noises became just about her roommate.

 

With a sudden burst of courage fueled by a melody growing louder in her chest, Wendy leans in, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of Joohyun’s lips and forgets that there’s supposed to be a gap between them.

 

“Of course!” Wendy squeals, delight gushing out in rivers from how her voice raises an octave higher.

 

She doesn’t notice her mistake until Joohyun’s still frighteningly mute, eyes wide in surprise and confusion, her mouth agape. The initial high drops quickly as Wendy tries to remedy the growing awkwardness beginning to rise in its wake.

 

“U-Um, don’t forget your gloves!” Wendy squeaks, her nerves coming back with a vengeance in the form of stuttering lips and shaky legs as she shoves the items into Joohyun’s arms. “See you tonight! And stay safe!” She shrieks, practically forcing Joohyun out the door with unsteady palms at a rigid back.

 

She hears Joohyun yelp in surprise, sees her stumble into the hallway, hands flailing to keep herself upright against the wall opposite of them before Wendy slams the door shut.

 

Despite her poor hasty attempt to get rid of the problem before it got out of hand (Wendy admits that Joohyun, at that precious moment, had been a problem), Wendy’s still happy.

 

She should be regretful about the kiss – she really should be. But Wendy doesn’t want to take it back because as much as it was embarrassing, it had summed up her emotions better than words ever could (and it was friendly enough, she thinks – _totally platonic_ ).

 

Her forehead bumps gently against the door, letting it rest there as Wendy tries to quell the racing thrum in her chest – tries to quiet down the pounding rhythm of her heart in her ears. The song is playing even louder in her head and it makes Wendy want Joohyun to hear it already – the lyrics getting clearer across smoky hazes of a familiar melody.

 

Without a second thought (she tries not to dwell on the fact that she had _just_ kissed Joohyun – _kissed!_ ) Wendy rushes towards her room for a pen and a piece of paper, quickly scribbling down the words that come to mind.

 

Even when she’s focused on etching the lyrics with permanent ink on a tiny blue sticky note, Wendy’s still keenly aware of Joohyun’s warm skin tattooed across her lips, pulsing happiness from lingering heat so it curves the corners upwards.

 

Out of all the smiles she’s had the past few months with Joohyun, Wendy likes this one the best.

 

-

 

Irene wonders if Seungwan’s okay.

 

It had been more than startling to feel plump flesh press softly against her skin, settle beneath her cheek for a split second before it disappeared. Then she remembers having to cradle her gloves between frozen arms before stumbling out of her own apartment on swaying feet.

 

She didn’t even have the time to turn around to complain – yell out her roommate’s name before the door had shut in her face.

 

Should she go back? Irene hadn’t bothered because she figured that maybe everything was merely a hallucination – that her mind had been playing tricks on her because last night had already been too much (pictures of Yerim and her had suddenly been too much to look at and she just wanted them to break – _just break them all_ ).

 

Irene wonders if it’s okay that she had found the pain of picking up broken glass pleasantly relieving (the cuts tore open anger into smaller pieces she could actually handle until there was nothing left).

 

_“… nie,”_

 

But what about Seungwan? Her behavior had changed – not that Irene minded the suddenly bolder counterpart, but it had been unnervingly quick that she didn’t have the time to even properly react. What if –

 

_“… nie!”_

 

– No, maybe Seungwan was just happy? Maybe the song she was playing had lifted whatever mood she was in and the kiss (Irene knows it was a kiss even if it _was_ extremely quick) was just excess energy from a pretty tune?

 

Irene furrows her brows, crosses her arms – it sounds silly even when she repeats it over and over again in her head.

 

“Unnie!”

 

She jumps, startled at the sound of a pitchy screech, only to look up and see Sooyoung seething in her seat across from her; clearly upset.

 

Irene clears her throat behind a hand, “… Y-Yes?”

 

Sooyoung’s frown has Irene fidgeting in her seat, twiddling with the spoon in her cup of coffee (that she knows she has yet to drink) to distract herself from Sooyoung’s undivided scrutiny.

 

“If I wanted to talk to a normal wall, I would’ve just stayed at home.” Sooyoung whines, huffing as she leans back in her chair. “But you’re more than a wall unnie,” Irene can’t help but roll her eyes, already aware of the familiar line Sooyoung always said when she was frustrated with her. “You’re a wall with a black hole for its heart.”

 

“Didn’t you say vortex last time?”

 

Sooyoung scoffs, but Irene notes the smirk growing at the corner of her lips.

 

“Yeah, but that sounded too much like a compliment.” Sooyoung quips, nonchalant as she twirls a stray strand of hair between her fingers. “So I changed it.”

 

Irene laughs before bringing her cup to her lips, blanching at the bitter cold of a forgotten drink.

 

“What were you even thinking about?” Sooyoung continues on, glancing at her own nails as if uninterested but Irene knows better. “… Yeri?”

 

Irene’s relieved she already has her coffee back down on the table or she would’ve dropped it from the sudden tremor cradling her fingers. She’s not surprised Sooyoung had noticed – she had known of their relationship (it wasn’t like Irene wanted to keep it secret anyway) but she was the friend that respected privacy ( _“As long as she’s good to you and you’re good to her, I don’t need to know anything else.”_ )

 

Her silence sends Sooyoung the wrong message, but Irene doesn’t bother correcting it (because _shouldn’t_ she be thinking about Yerim anyway? Not Seungwan?).

 

“Are you going back to her?”

 

It’s the question she’s been asking herself since the moment she found Yerim again.

 

Irene twiddles with the handle of her porcelain cup, listens to the sounds surrounding them: clacking heels and giggling laughter, shuffling plates and scribbling paper, and tinkling rings of the bell atop the café door. For all the chaos of sounds mashing against each other left and right – sounds that don’t necessarily fit together but they still manage to – it’s comforting.

 

“Maybe,” Irene whispers amidst the noises; it’s the closest she’s got to a word that fits how she really feels.

 

Sooyoung hums, understanding from the way she doesn’t probe any further, merely content with twirling her hair, admiring her artwork on sets of teal green nails.

 

“Don’t make me a ‘maybe’, Irene unnie.”

 

Irene almost manages to make the coffee spill if it hadn’t been for the sturdy table, wincing at the impact her knee made with the poor furniture. Her nerves give her away from how she coughs out nothing but the air she breathes – barely registering how Sooyoung greets Yerim with a simple wave of her hand.

 

“Y-Yerim?” Irene gasps out on threads of excitement and anxiety clogging her throat, “Wha – What are you doing here?”

 

Sooyoung chooses this time to make her escape, rising from her seat and sending her a quick smile and a hasty salute that Irene could read as easily as the clock hands hanging atop the cashier’s head several meters away. _“Good luck, unnie. Wouldn’t want to be you.”_

 

“Heading to work now, so see you two later.” Sooyoung says before spinning around, giving one last wave to Yerim and striding out the double glass doors.

 

Irene wants to roll her eyes but then Yerim sits across from her and it chokes all the strength she has left. She avoids her gaze, attempting to distract herself from Yerim’s undivided attention by swallowing cold coffee – a critical mistake.

 

“Was it easy?” Irene mutters against her cup, lets her insecurities drown her as the taste of a bitter drink envelope her in a familiar scent that has always been just Yerim. “… Leaving me?”

 

Yerim looks like she wants to reach out, grasp her hand, but she only curls her fingers atop the table, mimic a position of confidence and authority that Irene knows she doesn’t really have – but _she does on her._

 

“No, unnie.”

 

Irene scoffs, wondering how they could go back to being this tense; she thought it had all been solved the moment she saw her again (but here she is, voicing out things she had always been wondering about – dreaming nightmares about).

 

“Is it bad?” Irene asks, still murmuring into her cup even when it’s already empty. “That I hoped you missed me?”

 

“No,” Yerim says again, gives a little shrug, her voice oddly small – oddly timid. “Is it bad that I did and still do?” Her pitch rises an octave higher at the last syllable, as if unsure whether she could ask such a question.

 

Irene bites the edge of her cup, overwhelmed with the urge to lean over and kiss her; to taste the familiarity of a love she had been happy about – one she kept dreaming about (kept thinking about).

 

“I couldn’t sleep because of you.” Yerim says once Irene’s teeth had stopped gnawing on white porcelain, defeated by the way her eyes always go back to Yerim. “I wish you stopped loving me,”

 

Irene scoffs, initially thinking, _Yeah, I did too,_ but here she is.

 

“How could I?” Irene croaks, brushing out strands of hair from her face, frustrated at the way Yerim can still make her _feel._ “When you were in everything I looked at?”

 

Irene sort of wishes she stopped loving Yerim, too.

 

-

 

“I really _really_ like Joy; she’s so happy!”

 

Wendy almost topples over a trashcan if not for Seulgi’s hasty grip on her elbow, guiding her out of the theater and steadying her back onto bumpy snowy surface of the sidewalk. She thanks her by holding on, pressing close as they squeeze through the moving crowd, finding comfort in Seulgi’s constant presence when everything else continues to change.

 

It takes time for Wendy to realize that Seulgi had meant the character from the movie they just watched and not Joohyun’s friend when she trudges on – gushes about her blue hair and upbeat personality (Wendy doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the character kind of _has to_ , because, well – it’s in her _name_ ).

 

“So, where do we eat?” Seulgi asks once they’re free and not being squished into others molding foreign body heat.

 

Wendy lets go of Seulgi’s arm to have a better glance of her watch, _6:17 PM._ Maybe Joohyun’s home already?

“Can we order take-out?” Wendy suggests, smiling nervously at Seulgi’s confused look. “Just in case Joohyun hasn’t eaten yet,”

 

She knows Joohyun had gone out with her friend, but she _did_ also leave early, and thus, maybe she arrived home earlier? That maybe she didn’t have supper yet?

 

“Aw, how cute!” Seulgi’s squeal breaks images of Joohyun in her head as she feels strong fingers pinch her cheeks. “What a sweet roomie you are. I’m kind of jealous,” Wendy attempts to swat her hands away, shrieking weakly as Seulgi teeters her side to side, cooing at her. “Can’t you treat me that way even just a _tiny_ bit like that too?”

 

Wendy finally manages to wriggle herself free, slapping off probing fingers and whines when Seulgi jumps back in laughter before she gets to throw a friendly fist as punishment.

 

“I think I’ve spoiled you too much already, Seul.” She retorts, rubbing at her face, hoping the various shades of pink and red (as well as the marks of Seulgi’s fingertips) fade from her cheeks.

 

“Not as much as Joohyun unnie,” Seulgi quips playfully, a teasing smile coloring her lips. “… Why don’t you call her ‘unnie’, anyway?”

 

Wendy remembers mentioning the same thing to Joohyun the first few weeks they started living together. She had probed Joohyun the same question, and the taller woman shrugged her shoulders.

 

“She said she was used to hearing me call her without it,” Wendy says, reciting the words Joohyun had told her a few months ago. “That it’d feel a little weird to change it now that we’ve gotten used to it.” Her fingers gloss over the modern hourglass tied to her wrist; taking note how Joohyun replaces it when she needs to count problems away. “So I don’t.”

 

Seulgi hums, a skip in her step. “Very cute,” She muses gently, kicking at a lump of snow and watching it puff off to the side as they turn a corner, their boots crunching against the cold cushion of shiny white. “You up for Vietnamese food?”

 

Wendy nods, laughing as Seulgi reaches for her hand and guides her along, swinging their arms together. She misses this – the playful company, how Seulgi manages to keep all her thoughts away, have her enjoy the present. Wendy wonders if Seulgi’s happy steps reflect a success with a certain lover (she knows the date with Joohyun’s friend Joy had been more of her just _trying_ for the sake of trying; not actually interested in pursuing).

 

Wendy snuggles her nose against her blue scarf, “Um, what about your girlfriend? Are you two doing okay?” She asks, hesitation dripping from the way she tightens her hold on Seulgi, afraid that she’d run away.

 

“We’re doing pretty good, actually.” Seulgi says, tugging her closer as they cross the street. “Talking about all the things we like. The usual.”

 

Wendy grins at Seulgi’s beaming smile, wondering how it could sparkle as much as the flakes of blinking snow – how it could outshine the flickering gold of streetlights.

 

“So,” Seulgi starts as they enter the restaurant, switching gears back to the task at hand. “What do you think your roomie will like?”

 

They giggle over the possibilities, scrolling fingers across the menu and Wendy misses this tender feeling of camaraderie.

 

-

 

Wendy places the last remaining dishes out to dry, wiping her hands on a towel before going back to sit beside Seulgi on the couch, watch her fiddle with the strings of her guitar. Her wristwatch tells her it’s 8:03 PM, and even though it isn’t necessarily late in the evening (but it’s later than usual), Wendy can’t help but feel worried.

 

Joohyun hasn’t come back yet and her food is getting cold.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Wendy begins, smoothing over her sweater, attempts to pretend Joohyun’s absence doesn’t affect her as much as it actually does. “What have you been up to? Since, well, I hadn’t been hanging out with you much.”

 

Seulgi makes a pouty face, “Glad you finally noticed,” she quips before running her fingers through a set of strings that don’t sound nice together. “Just bugging you, going to school, working as the best bear mascot _ever_ – and repeat.”

 

Wendy laughs, taking her guitar back from Seulgi and her horrible mixtures of noises that were just that – _noises._

 

“What about you, Wen? Besides, you know, _overly_ admiring Joohyun unnie.” Seulgi asks, teasingly eyeing her with a brow that doesn’t know how to stop moving up and down.

 

Wendy slaps her shoulder, “Oh har har, _very_ funny,” she retorts, attempting to chide her but falls short when a smile fills her lips instead. “Just getting bugged by you, going to school, working as the best part-time music teacher _ever_ – and repeat.” She says, deliberately mimicking Seulgi’s words and grins impishly at her friend’s rolling eyes.

 

“How boring,” Seulgi says, slumping in her seat, staring at a blank white ceiling.

 

Wendy only shrugs, strumming a chord to the song in her head and lets her fingers pluck the strings of a familiar melody so the silence doesn’t stay. Recalling the lyrics she had written a few hours ago, Wendy attempts to fit them in between the spaces of each drawling chord.

 

_“Take time, to realize…”_

 

She barely makes it to the second chord when Seulgi jolts upright, banging the bottom of her guitar with her elbow and ruining what had been a great first attempt at the song she had only just learned the lyrics to.

 

Wendy wants to scold her but Seulgi’s suddenly looking at her with wide eyes and it cuts the words short in her throat.

 

“H-How?” Wendy’s startled by her stutter, furrowing her brows at Seulgi’s frantic look. “How do you know that song?”

 

Wendy wonders if she’ll sound crazy, “Well, it just came to me. Like,” she begins to tap on the edge of her guitar, unsure of why she’s suddenly nervous. “Like I had always known…” _tack, tack, tack – three,_ the wood goes, echoing softly, prickling the air at the looming quiet. “… Whenever I looked at Joohyun.”

 

It’s overwhelming how Seulgi’s so silent. Wendy’s not sure why it’s making her want to explain things that don’t have anything to do with her.

 

“You pointed it out, even.” Wendy continues, not understanding why she’s rambling on – why her mouth just won’t stop spilling things. “’Like a love letter’, right? I just – I guess that’s what this is,” _tack, tack, tack – twelve,_ her finger won’t stop tapping; it’s not calming the sudden noise in her head – but her lips just keep going. “This song’s my love letter.”

 

Seulgi’s still frighteningly mute. Wendy hates how it reminds her of Joohyun; how Joohyun had been terrifyingly quiet and Wendy hadn’t known what to do.

 

Wendy wants the silence to stop, and suddenly it does.

 

“… For Joohyun unnie?” Seulgi rasps out, uncharacteristically husky that Wendy’s afraid at how unfamiliar her friend is being.

 

Wendy doesn’t know how to answer that – _was_ it for Joohyun? She certainly managed to come up with it _because_ of her, so technically it would be, wouldn’t it?

 

“Will you sing it for me?” Seulgi’s request throws her off balance, but Wendy considers it good practice. She _had_ been trying to sing it, anyway (and Joohyun wants to hear it – all the more reason to).

 

Ignoring how Seulgi’s oddly interested in it (Wendy knows it has something to do with how Seulgi asked like it was a song she already knew), she strums the strings again, shutting her eyes, letting her thoughts clear out except for the pictures of Joohyun that are tattooed in her memory.

 

 _“But I can’t spell it out for you; no, it’s never gonna be that simple,”_ the words pour out like syrup, cradling her into a haze of soft dreams Wendy can’t help but get lost in, _“No, I can’t spell it out for you…”_

_“If you just realize what I just realized,”_ Wendy’s eyes shoot open at Seulgi’s voice, filling in the lyrics that she knows she hasn’t shared with anyone. _“Then we’d be perfect for each other and we’ll never find another,”_

Tuning her voice so it could mesh together with Seulgi’s, Wendy harmonizes and briefly wonders how Seulgi knows the song in her heart.

_“Just realize what I just realized; we’d never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now…”_

When she threads her fingers through the final chord, lets the sound echo through the room until it fades behind the walls of the apartment, Wendy looks back up from muted strings to see tears print down Seulgi’s face.

 

Startled, Wendy immediately reaches out and rubs her thumb across soft skin, panicked at the way Seulgi’s gone back to being mute; her question of Seulgi’s knowledge of the song hiding back into the depths of her mind.

 

“W-Why are you crying, Seul?” Wendy asks, feeling frantic as she settles her guitar on the ground, her other hand still occupied with wiping away pain that she has yet to understand.

 

She has never had to deal with a sad Seulgi before; not when the taller girl had always been the brighter one – the stronger one. All she ever associated Seulgi with were smiles and laughter – a true personification of her favorite character from that family cartoon movie.

 

“Seul? Seul,” Wendy calls out, ignores how her words don’t seem to reach her until Seulgi’s suddenly moving and Wendy can see the minute specks of color in her eyes.

 

“… I can’t believe it,” Seulgi whispers, her breath leaving fleeting trails across her lips, making Wendy startled at how close they are. “… You remember your confession song,”

 

_My confession song?_

 

Wendy attempts to push her away, curling her hands against the taller girl’s shoulders.

 

“Seul, wha –”

 

Then she tastes orange, her words cut short by lips pressing warmth in hues of Seulgi’s touch – a mixture of gentle cotton and loyal protector. Wendy’s gasp spills between her teeth at Seulgi’s hands reaching out and cradling her hips, the tips of her friend’s fingers curling around sensitive skin.

 

Her stomach twists in familiarity when Seulgi traps her bottom lip between her own, decreasing the distance between them until Wendy feels her back hit the sofa and Seulgi’s towering over her. Seulgi’s filling her lungs with a confession that feels like it’s been waiting to be heard – been aching to be found.

 

“… It’s hard,” Seulgi mutters, Wendy feeling every syllable draw on her mouth when Seulgi pulls back just enough to let her breathe, “… Pretending she’s not you.” She finishes, keeping still above her, steadying herself on palms that have Wendy trapped between.

 

Wendy doesn’t know how she missed it – how she never noticed.

 

How she couldn’t read the way Seulgi holds her tight, not wanting to let go during sleepovers they used to have, how she holds her hand as they cross streets even when it’s empty of cars, and tells her ‘I love you’ even when they’re just being quiet together and there’s no particular reason to – going along with her silly excuse of just _appreciating each other._

 

She should’ve noticed the moment Seulgi talked about her over the phone.

 

_“The only difference is that she was in love with me and you're not."_

 

… She should’ve noticed.

 

But despite all the memories Wendy tries to filter through, attempt to make sense out of the chaos she feels in her head of the things she does and doesn’t remember, she’s lying here thinking back on a kiss she just had with Seulgi and only remembers that it was Joohyun she was picturing.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
>  
> 
> … Yeah, the holy trinity love triangle is here – just not what you may have initially expected. So yes, I was saving Seulgi not for Irene but for Wendy.
> 
>  
> 
> I chose “Realize” by Colbie Caillat because:
> 
> It describes what Wendy feels for Joohyun (the song that’s been in her head).  
> It describes what Wendy felt for Seulgi (note Seulgi’s line of her ‘confession song’).  
> It describes the situation between Wendy and Seulgi (a past Wendy has clearly forgotten).  
> I was upset Taeng9cam didn’t air Seuldy’s duet of it; so I made them do it here.  
>  
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter; and happy new year.


	6. Backdrop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seulgi hadn’t been loved as much as she was when she was donned in her teddy bear suit.

Seulgi hadn’t been loved as much as she was when she was donned in her teddy bear suit.

 

Squeals of children and their happy laughter at the mere sight of her wrote a smile across her own lips every time (it didn’t matter to Seulgi that they couldn’t see – it was enough to just _feel_ ). They loved her big hugs, cheered for her silly dances, and sought for her company; Seulgi felt love so overwhelming it flowed through her from every joyful grin that spilled over their mouths like a tumbling river.

 

But then Wendy came along – showed her how to be loved without a costume to hide her face – and Seulgi suddenly didn’t know how to be loved without it.

 

She remembers how Wendy caught her eye one Friday afternoon despite the cluster of children surrounding her; shrieking for her attention as she twiddled with a couple of apparels that had just arrived onto a teddy bear; fitting the little yellow t-shirt through its tiny head (why this particular child wanted a smaller one as opposed to its bigger counterpart, Seulgi had no clue). It was definitely a lot harder to do so when her giant hands and poor sockets for eyes (all thanks to the giant stuffy bear costume) gave Seulgi barely any room to work with.

 

Build-A-Bigger-Bear had only been around for one week and suddenly it was the amusement park for children and adults alike. Everyone enjoyed playing dress up with their toy – and Seulgi had to admit; there was a charm in having a choice of picking a bear’s color, shoes, clothes, and accessories. The freedom was euphoric. But she knew the true magic was in the final act of giving the toy a fluffy heart (in whatever color one wanted) before hiding it away in a sea of cotton stuffing.

 

Even when everyone knew the heart was merely a prop of its own (having no special function whatsoever – it was just as much of a stuffing as its fluffy white cotton neighbors), the action of giving it life – as symbolic as it was, still managed to keep people clamoring for more.

 

She would have argued that dolls and figurines could be dressed up the same way – a new set of shoes, clothes, accessories – but not one of them could be given a heart. Not like the Build-A-Bigger-Bears.

 

Seulgi felt the August heat seep into her costume despite the air conditioning turned on max; she wished the door to the store stayed shut but apparently the manager preferred to keep it open to lure in more customers (and boil her in the summer blaze). It didn’t help that she was stationed by the entrance acting as incentive for attracting anything with two feet and a pair of eyes (Seulgi loved dressing up into a bear but her supervisor could have _at least_ been kind enough to get the door to close for the duration when no one was interested).

 

Her back was beginning to ache from all the kids hovering near her, tugging at her brown fur as she tried to quell their excitement with various bouts of groans that were supposed to be ‘shhhh’ noises instead. _God_ she was tired (she had only been working for five hours but _already_ she was exhausted – Seulgi blamed the sun).

 

“This store isn’t kidding when it says ‘Build-A-Bigger-Bear’,” someone chuckled amusedly, a woman’s voice tinkling with laughter amidst the screeching squeals of children clutching at the toy Seulgi was still fiddling with.

 

Seulgi didn’t bother keeping the bear any longer, not wanting to be clutched at over the toy and allowed the crowd of kids to settle the problem on their own (her ears were already ringing from their shrieks that Seulgi wondered if the job was worth keeping at the expense of her hearing), watching the poor bear be pulled at by tiny clawing hands. She’d rather let her manager handle _that._

 

“Yeah,” Seulgi sighed tiredly, readjusting the head of her costume (some child wanted to take a peek inside and that was a big no-no). “The smallest size happens to be one of the largest sizes that our competition has – everyone wants them bigger.”

 

“Like you?”

 

Seulgi felt the patches of red crawling up her neck to settle across her cheeks at the teasing lilt of the woman’s voice (she couldn’t see her still; darn costume – has such poor eye sockets). She was suddenly _very_ grateful to be hiding beneath her costume. And did she just hit on her?

 

Her tongue stumbled over simple words, “I-I um, sort of? I-I meant the _size,_ you know, not – um, not me…”

 

She wished her mouth had a zipper like the back of a teddy bear where its heart would be tucked and hidden; Seulgi didn’t like being so easy to read. She shouldn’t even be nervous considering she was practically _hidden_ to begin with. And why did she even take it as a compliment? It could’ve just as easily been an insult instead.

 

“Yes,” the stranger laughed gently, her voice drawing sweet chimes over Seulgi’s earlobes at the sound. “I know,”

 

Seulgi wished at that moment that she hadn’t bothered to readjust her bear head to see what she looked like. She was better off having air in her lungs than without – any sane person would know that. She was doing so well just by hearing her voice – why couldn’t she have _just_ been a voice?

 

Shimmery locks of auburn brown flowed past the woman’s shoulders, her fringe drawing tinges of both innocence and maturity over just the top of sharp brows, glossing across a pair of eyes in savory hues of chestnut and glowing confidence. Despite the shorter height, the woman expressed a sense of grace from her straightened back and relaxed but steady shoulders; a look of elegance that Seulgi didn’t have – not with how her own shoulders tended to slouch, her back always at a slump.

 

Seulgi stumbled back on images of perfection; from the way the stranger had her lips curled up like tilted specks of melted gold, playful and teasing, to the way her simple blue hoodie (it was just a _hoodie,_ Seulgi whined bitterly) accentuated the edges of her shoulders to the loose spaces of her arms; clearly still an extra size larger than her figure but still managed to make her look unfortunately _great._

 

She was doomed.

 

“H-Hey, are you okay?” The stranger asked her as she kept her steady by strong fingers wrapped around her furry arm – Seulgi suddenly had two left feet and she wasn’t even _dancing_. “Maybe you’ve been in that costume for too long; it’s pretty warm out after all…”

 

Oh no. Oh no no no no _no._

 

Seulgi’s eyes widened at the sight of the pretty stranger looming closer, how her neck burned several degrees hotter at the feel of small, cool fingers clasping beneath her bear mask, the woman’s fingertips sliding gently across her skin.

 

Oh god–

 

“NO!” Seulgi squeaked, pulling away and clutching at her bear head like it would stave off the burning chills left by the stranger’s touch along her neck. “N-No, it’s okay,” she managed to say more calmly (ignoring the racing thrum in her chest), “I-I have to, um, keep this on until my shift is over – don’t want to break the children’s hearts, so…”

 

The stranger looked apologetic and Seulgi didn’t like the frown painted across plump lips.

 

“Oh,” she muttered quietly, suddenly looking shy and Seulgi wondered how she could pull off both stunningly courageous and adorably meek. “Sorry, I was just worried. You’re okay then?” She said looking back up at her, “Not feeling dizzy or anything?”

 

Seulgi would like to say ‘it was all because of _you_ ’, but that sounded too rude and way too forward at the same time. She was glad she was never good with words; they always managed to get stuck in her throat and this was no exception.

 

“… Yeah,” she mumbled finally, seemingly ending their meaningless conversation (it wasn’t really meaningless; she got an eyeful of a painting that spoke volumes of adventure after all – it just sort of ended in a weird circle that fell through even though there wasn’t supposed to be such an abrupt ending).

 

“That’s good,” she said, as if ignoring the awkward cloud gradually falling over them, “I’m Seungwan, but I like the sound of Wendy.” Seulgi glanced at the offered hand, mulling over the foreign name. “And you are? Besides being the store’s ‘Bigger-Bear’,” she giggled cutely, a poor but adorable attempt at a joke.

 

 

"... Seulgi," she said with slight hesitation, taking her hand, unsure of why the stranger was bothering to get to know her.

 

"Well, I should get going." Seungwan – _Wendy,_ said, pulling at a strap on her shoulder only for Seulgi to finally realize that she had a guitar with her. _A musician, maybe?_ "The kids always went on and on about this giant walking teddy bear around the corner building other teddy bears once they're done lessons. I wanted to see this bear for myself." Her curved lips managed to be a culmination of both a smirk and a smile.

 

Seulgi felt sheepish despite the costume hiding her appearance, her hand immediately scratching at the back of her head.

 

"Oh do they...?" She didn't know what to say; she was just doing her job but to hear that the kids actually liked her (and weren't actually bullying her with how they tugged at her fur all the time) felt nice.

 

Wendy grinned then, turning around to head back out. "They sing about you; that has to mean something, right?" She said with eyes startlingly bright against the yellow haze of a burning summer sun that Seulgi felt her heart freeze up to a pause even when it shouldn't.

 

Seulgi had wondered if Wendy visited merely to let her know of the opinion of a cluster of children. Maybe she was looking out for the kids too, not wanting a creeper hidden beneath a costume calling in so much love from a naively innocent bunch. But what she did know was that she was no longer melting beneath the dazing heat of August weather, stuck in a bear suit for two more hours – she was drowning.

 

She still wonders now, as she stares down at a mute _present_ Wendy, how her chest rises and falls, the surprise and confusion coloring wide brown eyes as flashes of _her_ Wendy appear as fleeting hues – if the Wendy back then knew anything about how her eyes could be so deep that it pulled her in and wouldn't let her out.

 

Seulgi figured then, as she shuffled back towards the kids all jumbled together at the clothing section (allowed her memory of their first encounter to drown her again) whining at her as soon as she made her presence known, that she should appreciate the little rascals a bit more (even if they were frustratingly annoying most of the time).

 

-

 

Because she was naturally a curious person (Seulgi blamed her mother’s probing personality), Seulgi thought it was okay to scout out for Wendy – see what she meant by the children ‘singing’ about her.

 

Once her shift ended and she finally got to get out of the large, comfy – but very stuffy – bear suit, Seulgi figured it was okay to follow one of the kids out of the store. It wasn’t like she was _stalking_ the kid to do something bad to them (she tried to convince herself she wasn’t the creeper Wendy was checking on her to be – she _wasn’t_ ), she was just following one for _scientific_ purposes.

 

Seulgi had tailed two kids already but they both were simply busts (one led her to a clothing store and the other an arcade), so she hoped that the third would be a charm.

 

Wendy had said ‘around the corner’, but it didn’t help identifying which when there were plenty of buildings _at every corner_ occupying the central circle of a shopping district.

 

Swiping a bead of sweat off her brow, Seulgi removed her orange cardigan to tie around her waist instead (let her white shirt reflect the afternoon rays), have it hang over a pair of ripped black jeans and worn out white Nike’s. She allowed her fingers to flit through her locks of jet onyx into a bun as she trailed behind a little girl with blonde hair and a red bow on her head.

 

She recognized the tiny child as one of the whinier rascals she has had to deal with for the past week, scowling at a memory of the girl biting on her bear leg (thank god she was in her suit) because some boy stole a blue dress from her toy bear to put on his own instead.

 

Seulgi hid behind a lamppost as the girl walked into a tiny shop with musical notes graffitied along its walls, the name of the store littered with specks of lines and symbols attached to an overhanging arch.

 

It would explain Wendy’s guitar.

 

Shuffling closer so she could peer over the large display case of violins, Seulgi stared through the window to spot the tiny child give her purple dressed toy bear to Wendy.

 

As soon as Wendy had the stuffed animal in her arms (Seulgi refused to admit that it was cute because it made her look tinier than she already was with how the tips of its feet dangled along the floor – a wonder with how the child managed to carry it all the way over), the little girl began to cry.

 

Startled, Seulgi couldn’t help but enter the store, attempt to keep discreet behind a stack of CDs as she watched Wendy kneel in front of the child.

 

_“I-I was going to get the blue dress…”_ the little girl hiccupped as she rubbed her eyes, _“…B-But I couldn’t – I really wanted to get the sky for you, too…”_

_“Oh Taeyeon…”_ Wendy hushed her with a hug, squeezing the child between her arm and the bear’s fluffy body, _“Purple’s just as great because it’ll remind me of you, okay?”_

Seulgi almost cooed at the sight but immediately clammed her mouth shut with a hand as soon as a syllable began to spill from her lips. Her squeak was left unheard as Wendy ushered the girl further into the shop and Seulgi wondered if she should stick around.

 

_So the blue dress was for Wendy,_

 

She took one more glance back at the two girls, watched how Wendy cradled the little child with the toy bear in her arms and figured she could make it back to her workplace before either of them could leave.

 

Her legs already made it past the lamppost outside when her thoughts came to a decision, her strides – for once, confident.

 

-

 

Seulgi had the lines in her head, the script perfectly written across a clear mind.

 

She even had it rehearsed silently on her lips as she made her steps back to the music store, mute words clawing at her throat to have even her mouth memorize the syllables she wanted to say – what she was _supposed_ to say.

 

“U-Uh, I kind of, well, followed her here, and um – overheard _everything_ , so I thought, er – blue dress?”

 

What was _that?_ Seriously.

 

How embarrassing, she thought. Seulgi wanted to dig herself a bottomless pit beneath her feet – have herself fall in it along with her bear suit. Speaking of which, she should have worn her bear suit. Why _wasn’t_ she wearing her bear suit?

 

If Wendy didn’t think of her as a creeper for children before, then she certainly did _now._

 

Seulgi attempted to spin around, to head back out – to let herself disappear into the crowd of busy shoppers and blistering summer heat until tiny fingers grasped at her hand, clutching onto her wrist.

 

She froze up at the little girl’s touch, “You look better as a bear,” she said, her large curious eyes gazing up at her and Seulgi began to miss hiding in her suit. “You’re not fluffy to bite anymore.”

 

Was that a compliment?

 

“Okay Tae-Tae,” Wendy plucked the girl’s hand from her skin, cradling the child into her arms. “Upsy-daisy; your mommy’s coming any second now.”

 

Seulgi stared as the girl – _Taeyeon,_ snuggled her face into Wendy’s neck, humming a weak _“Okay,”_ as Wendy sent her a sheepish but curious smile her way. Seulgi felt like she was intruding until Wendy ushered her over with a nod of her head, gesturing to take a seat near the back of the store loitered with grand pianos.

 

Seulgi settled on a chair for the quality obsidian shine of a Steinway & Sons, admiring the craftsmanship of polished perfection along with gleaming black and white keys. She heard fading murmurs of Taeyeon’s _“Goodbye,”_ and Wendy’s chirped _“See you next week!”_ before the door clicked shut.

 

She suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself, streaking her fingertips along the canvas of the piano’s black surface. What was she even doing here? It was just to give the blue dress right? And to see what Wendy was like?

 

God she was such a mess –

 

“I was wondering why you were hiding behind a stack of vinyl records earlier…” Wendy’s voice halted her thoughts completely, eyes widening as the blue dress dangled between Wendy’s fingers. “You weren’t hard to miss,”

 

Seulgi swallowed, her throat clamming up with poor excuses and apologies. She wanted to clear her name, let her know that she was in no way a child molester or some pedophile – that she was merely stalking the kid for _research,_ but all that left Seulgi’s lips were words that were just as pathetic as her meek personality.

 

“… Was it because I’m tall and you’re not?”

 

Did she just claim her death certificate and gave permission for Wendy to execute her on the spot? _Good thing she mentally prepared a hole beneath her feet already._

She was screwed.

 

Wendy’s raucous laughter a minute later stopped the world from spinning in Seulgi’s head, paused how her life was just flashing before her mind’s eye – recalling all the things she had enjoyed for the few precious 21 years of her life.

 

“Yes, actually,” Wendy chuckled, a hand to her lips to muffle the giggles still managing to escape. “And the fact that the door has a bell, so…”

 

Right. No wonder she heard a _ding_ go off as soon as she crawled in. How embarrassing.

 

Seulgi attempted to hide her glowing face of differing shades from pink to red, hands pressing up against her skin to cool off the heat pouring between her fingers. This was why she relied so heavily on the mask of her suit – she was a walking disaster and had never really felt comfortable in her own skin.

 

She wished she was like Wendy – calm, cool, collected; _confident._

 

Her apologies tried to escape between her teeth, eyes shut tight behind the safety of her hands, but paused short when slim fingers clasped at her own to peel them off like masking tape.

 

“Lesson 1: don’t hide anything about yourself because there’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Wendy said, her words seeping warmth across her skin as Seulgi peeked between the spaces of her fingers. “Being the mascot of a store, you’d think they’d be the not-so-shy type,” Wendy continued, as if muttering to herself, drawing her hands out of her face to settle in smaller, slimmer ones – the blue dress tickling the edges of her palms. “It feels safe to hide, doesn’t it?”

 

Seulgi stared at the way Wendy’s eyes told her stories of a tale that made her grow – develop into an independence of a road not often crossed. The way she smiled was inspiring – lighting up flickering embers along the ridges of Seulgi’s timid heart.

 

Wendy ushered her over to a guitar, settled the instrument into her hands and grabbed her own – like they were going to play the start of a song to their beginning (Seulgi was about to protest; let her know _“I don’t know how –”_ until Wendy hushed her with a knowing grin).

 

“Why look down on yourself when you could look up?” Wendy had said matter-of-factly, like the words bled gold and truth, a verse in a bible that left Seulgi speechless from the tinges of hope that colored her question.

 

Seulgi wondered then, as Wendy helped her place her fingers on the correct fret, if this was how love (in the most platonic form of the word) felt like without a suit to play as her skin.

 

She felt free.

 

-

 

It didn’t take Wendy long to burrow a hole somewhere in her heart (only took her a month – more than half of which were Seulgi being in utter denial), nestling away in a cave she built for herself between the crevices that kept the organ beating, pumping life through her veins.

 

Seulgi remembers having been worried about it – how invested she was getting into being with Wendy; just being in her presence, spending time until the clock ticked past curfew and Wendy needed to go.

 

But no one was ever waiting for her at home.

 

“… Is that weird?” Wendy had asked out of the blue as they started cleaning up the sets of take-out in Seulgi’s kitchen, “That I don’t live with my parents anymore?”

 

Seulgi wanted to say ‘yes’. But maybe it was because she was living with hers (they were currently out shopping with her older brother) that it seemed odd to hear Wendy wasn’t.

 

“Not really…” she settled for instead, dumping the dirty plates into the sink, flicking the faucet open. “…Isn’t it lonely?”

 

They were close enough to talk about things like school and music (it turned out Wendy was a great vocalist, and when she found out Seulgi could sing, they ended up making impromptu singing sessions whenever they could), but not enough to have talked about family.

 

At best, Seulgi knew Wendy’s family were wealthy – that Wendy’s older sister had followed in their parents’ footsteps in learning the ways of business management. It turned out that they owned plenty of music shops across the globe, even setting up record deals with artists alike and having a hand at the entertainment industry. They were experienced professionals in the field of music, but even when Wendy clearly had a passion for the same thing, it didn’t look like they shared similar views.

 

“Kind of,” Wendy said as she helped her out with drying the dishes. “But I like it – it’s quiet.”

 

“Quiet?”

 

“No noises,” Wendy quipped, brushing her hair to curl behind her ear. “I don’t really like noises – like, you know…” she clutched against the edge of the countertop, waiting for Seulgi to rinse the rest of the soap. “Those ‘ticks’ and ‘clicks’ sounds; my house always had noisy locks even when they were new.”

 

Seulgi raised a brow as she handed another plate to her, “But don’t you make noises all the time? Like music,”

 

Wendy laughed, “The difference is that one sounds nicer and the other one doesn’t.” She said, scrubbing the dish until it dried, “Just a personal pet peeve; mom and dad always talked about maintaining a constant rhythm and…” Seulgi watched Wendy pause minutely, as if proofreading the words outlined in her head. “…I don’t really want to anymore. Is it really so bad to be all over the place?”

 

Seulgi hadn’t really understood what Wendy was going on about – what made the girl run on fuel like clockwork. But what she did know was that Wendy hadn’t been the collected individual that Seulgi saw her to be. She was chaos that knew how to be organized, divided, broken, and fixed, all at the same time. Wendy carried discord like how Seulgi carried personal doubt; but one knew how to grow beyond its chains and the other one didn’t.

 

“No,” Seulgi said with courage that she was trying to keep and flourish, “Because you wouldn’t have met me, right?”

 

Wendy guffawed, her laughter ringing bells in Seulgi’s ears at the way one of her eyes squint more than the other. The sight made something fester inside of her, clutching at the walls of her stomach – anxious at Wendy’s response for her next question.

 

“How about a sleepover?”

 

Seulgi had been delighted to see the surprise color Wendy’s face and felt fireworks erupt in her chest at the giant smile that seemed to be permanent across her lips. Seulgi wanted it to stay that way forever.

 

It had been awkward at first, considering Wendy only had one bed. It didn't help that she insisted that it was okay to share even when Seulgi had offered to sleep on the couch; that she was used to sleeping in odd places (not that it was true; she just didn't want to be so close to Wendy breathing the same air, lying on the same mattress; it was terrifying) but Wendy wouldn't take any form of 'no'.

 

Not even when Seulgi resorted to stomping the ground like a petulant child with a tantrum, only receiving Wendy's soft _"Got it all out? Great, now come on; I'm sleepy and I need something to hug."_ Before dragging her with a strength that Seulgi didn't know was hidden in such a tiny and petite human being.

 

She didn't realize having Wendy in her arms was something she had been wanting until her warmth was pressed against her, Wendy's face nuzzling comfortably against her neck. She remembered Wendy mentioning being extra sensitive to the cold even when she was from Canada, so her being so flush against her felt both logical and irrational at the same time (irrational because here she was – her mind going haywire).

 

"Goodnight, Seul." Wendy muttered softly, and Seulgi felt her knees weaken at the sleepy lilt of her voice and the newly acquired nickname.

 

Unable to help herself, Seulgi leant down, placed her lips against her forehead and murmured just as tenderly.

 

"Goodnight, Wen-Wen."

 

And that had been the moment Seulgi realized that she didn't need a costume to feel loved, drifting off to slumber in hopes of waking up to this same fairytale.

 

-

 

They had gotten closer.

 

On most days, Seulgi would visit Wendy at her apartment; spend time just lounging around, watching dramas that had horribly clichéd plotlines. Or, they’d go shopping together, picking out new clothes to wear before heading to the shop to jam to any type of music until their throats felt tired and Wendy’s fingers couldn’t play the keys to a piano or the strings of her guitar anymore.

 

She even got to witness one of Wendy’s music lessons, watched how the normally loud cluster of children she had to deal with back at work were suddenly quiet and compliant. They obeyed Wendy without hesitation, singing with technique at such young ages (especially Taeyeon – the girl was particularly gifted vocally) and playing instruments with skill honed to precision.

 

They had even gotten close enough to sleep together without qualms, tickling each other until they were too exhausted to move anymore, or tell each other bedtime stories about anything and everything.

 

Their _“I love you,”_ spanned throughout the day in giant intervals, mostly at mundane times: when Wendy cooked, Seulgi would say it (she always loved hearing Wendy’s giggly return of the same three words), when Seulgi was too engrossed with the TV, Wendy would say it, and when they had sleepovers (it was usually four times a week – Seulgi didn’t want Wendy to be alone anymore), they’d both have it replace their goodnights.

 

There were jokes of kissing each other too.

 

_“Coffee_ again, _Seul?”_ Wendy had whined playfully one morning, as if to complain despite turning on the kettle for her. _“I bet you taste like it now too – what with your obsession every morning.”_

Seulgi had snorted, _“But it’s good! Keeps me awake and all, and besides,”_ she continued on, leaning back against the chair. _“Wouldn’t_ you _like to know?”_ She joked heartily, a smug grin plastering the edges of her face.

 

She immediately regretted feeling so confident (to think all Wendy had was just lesson 1; the girl never taught her anything else) when Wendy circled the table to lean over her, signature auburn hair flickering against her cheeks, her eyes suddenly easier to read.

 

_“I would, actually.”_ Wendy quipped, smirking that it made Seulgi glow from the heat that flew up to her skin.

 

It was all she said before Wendy pulled back, humming a tune to a random song as she skipped back into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

 

Seulgi never thought much of it – didn’t _want_ to think more of it (not when Wendy stayed the same), so she didn’t.

 

Seulgi even knew her family – got acquainted with them once Wendy invited her over to Canada; to go visit with her because she didn’t want to be alone; that she couldn’t handle their disappointment of her going nowhere with all their glory, all at once. To them, Wendy wasn’t thinking about a future – where success was merely at the tips of her fingers and chose to only float about life like a drifting cloud.

 

But Wendy had everything planned – she didn’t want to pursue something she wasn’t interested in (a music career sounded amazing, but having her parents monitor her every move, control her progress – Wendy didn’t want it). Wendy wanted to compose music for movies: for anything with a moving picture, whether it be little things like video games to giant productions like theatres. She wanted to be able to move an audience through music alone with a story to tell. If she were to be a singer instead, Wendy feared they would only be focused on her face and status.

 

Seulgi understood so when they arrived at Wendy’s estate (incredibly large – a house that huge could exist?), she expected a freezing welcome and blazing scrutiny. There were none.

 

“H-Hi mom and dad…” Wendy had muttered, clearly nervous (one of the rare moments Seulgi had caught seeing Wendy so unlike her brave persona), but Seulgi didn’t feel animosity from the two adults.

 

They merely pulled Wendy into a giant hug, no words having left their lips and Seulgi suddenly didn’t know if she was allowed to witness such familial intimacy. It felt sacred – precious, something everyone could envy about for the loving warmth it expressed. She wanted to reach out; pat Wendy’s back when she heard her muffled sob crack the quiet air of October.

 

It was only when they had settled down in their circle of tears and happiness that Seulgi understood the lack of claws and bared teeth as greetings.

 

Wendy had run away from home – and she was forgiven.

 

Seulgi only confronted her about it when they were heading back, leaving Canada for warmer, milder winters (she had enjoyed their visit, though Wendy’s older sister gave her the creeps with the way she kept wagging her eyebrows like there was something more to them than just being friends – _pfft,_ friends held hands and kissed each other’s cheeks _all the time;_ nothing special).

 

“… I was being a little spontaneous.” Wendy had enough guilt to look remorseful, a sheepish smile plaguing her face as they buckled up their seats before take-off. “And before I knew it, I had an apartment and a job and have enrolled in school.”

 

Seulgi didn’t know what to say. She knew she would never run off, considering her family was knitted together like sewn wool, close enough to share secrets and tidbits of insecurities. Seulgi wondered if Wendy had been afraid to face the world on her own.

 

Did she ever cry in her room? Attempt to keep warm with blankets that were too many to count and a heater that never quite did its job right all on her own? Did she ever feel insecure about her choice? To leave behind people who clearly cherished her and cared for her wellbeing? Did she ever feel unloved being all by herself? Alone?

 

“Why do you look at me like that, Seul?”

 

Seulgi was startled by the question. “What?” She yelped, her fingers unclasping their hold on Wendy’s atop the arm of her seat.

 

Wendy’s stare was unmoving – not quite like a predator, but more like a sense of wonder and understanding; but of what, Seulgi wasn’t sure. She jolted again when the announcement came on, _“To all passengers…”_

“Easy, Seul. You’re so jumpy,” Wendy chided lightly, placing a hand on her forearm to steady the nerves in her limbs. “I was just wondering; do you look at everyone else like that? Or just me?”

 

Seulgi didn’t understand, turning a curious head back to Wendy, watching how her fringe had gotten shorter so her eyes wouldn’t hide away behind them anymore (the hair salon didn’t look much different in Canada).

 

“Like what?” Seulgi felt herself choke on air when Wendy smiled at her like she knew something she didn’t.

 

Wendy leaned into her ear, her breath drawing smokes against sensitive skin. Seulgi’s back had stiffened at the feather touch, a gasp stuck between the walls of her throat.

 

“Like a love letter?”

 

Seulgi remembers sputtering broken words then, unsure of why she had reacted so strongly to such an innocent question. But even when she had denied feeling anything like that, the small knowing smile on Wendy’s face never left. She had merely accepted her cracked syllables with intertwined fingers, clasping her between the spaces of their hands like it would anchor the nerves trembling Seulgi’s limbs. And it did.

 

For the rest of the flight, Seulgi had wondered if it was okay to feel so out of her element, like the truth was suddenly left bare across her chest for Wendy to see and the girl _had seen it_ , and never ran away (Seulgi didn’t even know she was hiding something so _raw,_ so _wanting_ ).

 

It helped settle the thrum in her frantic heart, the way Wendy snuggled her head against her shoulder, still keeping close like nothing changed (even when everything at that moment did).

 

_“Take time, to realize…”_ Wendy began, her voice soft akin to silk as she sang the lyrics to a song Seulgi wasn’t aware of. _“That your warmth is crashing down on in…”_

Seulgi felt her eyes close, Wendy’s singing a soothing lullaby that warmed her into a gentle heat even when she couldn’t understand the words. She rested her temple against Wendy’s head, squeezing their fingers together.

 

“Could you give me the lyrics to that song later?” Seulgi asked amidst the haze of Wendy’s voice and the calm thrum in her heart. “I want to sing it with you,”

 

Wendy quipped playfully, “Sure, but can I at least confess to you with it first?”

 

Seulgi’s shoulder had jolted along with her, knocking their heads together, ruining whatever mood they were molded in. Wendy rubbed at the sore spot, pouting as Seulgi massaged her own temple. _Confess?_

 

“I-I am _so_ sorry, Wen! I –” Seulgi clammed up as Wendy took her head, her fingers brushing cool wisps against her skin to place it on her shoulder instead.

 

Seulgi wanted to move – to get up and properly apologize but Wendy kept her still, feeling Wendy’s head rest against hers to have it locked in; their positions reversed.

 

“So you won’t go anywhere and I can continue singing, okay?” Wendy chirped, slightly reprimanding, seemingly proud of herself even when Seulgi knew that all she had to do was shift back; slide her head out from the space between Wendy’s shoulder and temple.

 

Seulgi shifted so she could feel more comfortable (the con of being taller), and hummed, giving up because she wasn’t about to run away from something she wanted, too.

 

When Wendy figured it was okay to continue, Seulgi tried not to fall asleep to her voice (it was rude but it was such a lullaby) as the foreign words filtered into ears, clutching at her earlobes and nestling into her chest.

 

_“If you just realize what I just realized…”_

-

 

They never got to sing it together.

 

Seulgi had been waiting for Wendy to come by, having already learned the lyrics to the song so they could play harmony and make music that got their hearts to sing along. It had been four days since they arrived back home from Canada; they both had been busy trying to keep up with work and school, making up for lost time while they were away.

 

At best, they settled for texting, their sleepovers put on hold because they were too exhausted to keep each other company without falling asleep long enough to keep a conversation going.

 

But they managed to schedule a hangout together, one that was long overdue (Seulgi missed her; she couldn’t wait), with Wendy’s message.

 

_(I’m coming over; we’ll sing it out loud and make it our song!)_  
Sender:  _Son Seungwan Wendy_  
Received:  _4:37:14 PM_  
Received:  _10/23/14_

 

Seulgi had replied quickly with an overly enthusiastic smile emoji, already excited to see the girl as she gathered her things, hastily putting on a simple white sweater and jeans before grabbing her black trench coat.

 

_(Then we’ll be girlfriends officially, got it? ;D)_  
Sender:  _Kang Seulgi_  
Received:  _4:38:02 PM_  
Received:  _10/23/14_

 

Wendy had wanted to ask her out on the plane once she had finished the last line to her confession song ( _their_ confession song), but Seulgi made her delay it; told her she wanted to sing it with her, tell her how she felt through it too.

 

So she practiced each day as soon as Wendy had given her the lyrics, learned to mimic the accent enough to not butcher the song. She didn’t want to ruin it, not when Wendy was her first for everything (like love and true friendship). Wendy deserved perfection.

 

_(Got it. :D)_  
Sender:  _Son Seungwan Wendy_  
Received:  _4:39:40 PM_  
Received:  _10/23/14_

 

But Seulgi felt restless.

 

She wondered if it was because she hadn’t seen the other girl in so long (four days were excruciatingly painful) that she felt so anxious. But whatever it was, the gnawing feeling in her stomach got her to her feet and had her exiting her home even when it hadn’t been three minutes since she had received Wendy’s text.

 

Seulgi only had to travel a few blocks, knowing that Wendy was coming from the music shop after her singing lessons (she figured she could go visit her instead, catch her on the way).

 

Ignoring the chilly whistles of November, Seulgi shoved her hands into her pockets and wished she had brought her gloves with her when she heard a child wailing like her lungs burned with pain.

 

She rushed immediately, heart jolted into a speed at the cry that scarred the air like prickling knives, her Nike’s crushing dead leaves as she sprinted towards the sound, spotting familiar short blonde hair and the giant blue dressed teddy bear.

 

Taeyeon’s name fell short from her lips at the sight of a color that wasn’t supposed to be staining the little girl’s frilly white dress. It was a color that covered specks of broken pavement until Seulgi made it closer, the pool of red getting bigger as it oozed from an open gash of a woman that looked too much like Wendy.

 

Everything blurred after that: how she had called for help as she checked on Wendy, unsure of exactly what to do because she had no medical knowledge as her words stuttered their location into her phone’s receiver, Taeyeon’s screeching wail a reflection of the tremor in her own chest – how she wanted to scream and cry out just as much (if not _more, so much more_ ), her eyes stinging with tears that wouldn’t stop shedding.

 

She still remembers the skid marks of tires.

 

It was only when the doctors were finished checking up on Taeyeon and had taken Wendy away, (Taeyeon managed to tell her that Wendy wanted to surprise her and have all three of them sing together) that Seulgi allowed herself to crumble.

 

Her knees dropped to the cold pavement of the sidewalk just outside of the hospital and sobbed against Taeyeon’s dry stained dress (there were no injuries to the girl except for the tiny scrapes on her legs and hands – suggesting that she had been pushed). Seulgi felt Taeyeon’s tiny fingers knead at her hair, wrapping little arms around her head and pulling her close. She could feel Taeyeon’s tears wet her scalp as she tightened her arms around the little girl’s body.

 

Taeyeon’s parents were stuck in traffic, so Seulgi offered to keep her company; they both needed it, anyway.

 

Clearing her throat, Seulgi stood and took Taeyeon’s hand, smudging away the tears that were still wet on her face.

 

“Come on, I think I got a bear t-shirt that could fit you just right.”

 

-

 

It took Seulgi a month to muster up the courage to visit Wendy only to find out she was already discharged.

 

They told her that her family picked her up a few days back; that Wendy was perfectly fine and had recovered quickly. Seulgi didn’t get anything else after that as she trudged back outside, wondering why Wendy hadn’t come by to visit her if she was considered fine. Then again, maybe she was angry that she didn’t visit _her._

If that was the case, then Seulgi couldn’t blame her.

 

She peeked through the familiar window of the music shop, spotting Taeyeon fiddling with the strings of a guitar. Seulgi had no work today so she didn’t get to see Taeyeon at the Build-A-Bigger-Bear, catching sight of a new toy in the little girl’s free hand.

 

“Seul?”

 

Seulgi froze up, turning her head slowly to the side to see Wendy with a plastic bag filled with treats, her appearance mirroring the same look she had the first time they met.

 

“… Wen-Wen?” She muttered, disbelief painting her voice as she attempted to reach out, to grasp at her face as if to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

 

Wendy had on such a shy smile that Seulgi wondered if she was looking at the same person.

 

“I-I guess?” Seulgi tried not to let her jaw hang open as she watched Wendy play with her wristwatch, tapping a finger against it so it’d go _tick, tick, tick._ “People don’t really seem to like the sound of ‘Seungwan’, so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead.” She said, as if to remind herself of it.

 

Seulgi didn’t understand. Wendy _preferred_ to be called ‘Wendy’; that it symbolized her confidence, her maturity, her independence, her bravery – and because she simply liked the sound of it. And since when did Wendy start tapping on her watch as if the sound made her feel better? Didn’t she hate the noise?

 

“They, um… they told me that I had a close friend – my family, that is…” Wendy continued on, like stuttering was in her nature. “…Seulgi, right?”

 

This wasn’t right.

 

“I just – I saw pictures of us. In my apartment… I was just, well, wondering when you were going to visit me, since – um,” Wendy hunched over, her shoulders raised up, her ticking going louder. “…I can’t remember where you live or where you work; if, um, I ever knew in the first place…”

 

This wasn’t Wendy. Not _her_ Wendy. Seulgi wasn’t even sure how to feel.

 

"Things are just... it's just blurry. It doesn't feel like I've forgotten anything because nothing feels out of place. Everything makes sense in my head even when I'm told they shouldn't."

 

Seulgi knew things were. Everything was out of order, as chaotic as the time Seulgi pretended to be anything less than herself.

 

"...So I recognize things, like where I work, or that you're a friend – right?"

 

Seulgi wanted to cry out _"No, wrong – I'm more than that,"_ but how could she tell Wendy that when Wendy didn't remember loving her? How could she tell someone that she was supposed to be in love with the person right in front of them when her eyes didn't mirror her own?

 

"R-Right," Seulgi muttered, aware of how her voice had cracked at the weight of a world without someone who had always been constant – even when they were right there with her.

 

Wendy's smile felt like _hers_ and Seulgi wondered if she was just hiding somewhere – like how Seulgi had hidden in her bear suit.

 

"What – um, what shouldn't make sense?" Seulgi attempted to understand, to see where Wendy was, how far she had gone.

 

Wendy scratched at her neck, looking shy. "That, well – that I love mom and dad."

 

Seulgi was confused; her relationship with her parents were fixed – seamlessly well even, after their visit.

 

"I-I didn't understand why they were suddenly so caring," Wendy murmured, fringe arching over the tops half of her eyes. "So I – um, I ran away."

 

Seulgi felt like a giant rock had slapped her face. This Wendy was the Wendy before she became the cool, calm, collected, and confident, woman who had a playful teasing streak. This was the Wendy Seulgi had been wondering about – whether she ever felt alone, anxious, and insecure.

 

This was the Wendy who ran away from home (but not for the same reason – her parents love her in this reality and it had scared her off).

 

Wendy was just starting all over again.

 

Seulgi tried not to think about how much she missed the woman who resembled her, and thought that she could be the one to help Wendy grow just like how she did for her in the past (which now felt so distant even when it had only been less than a year).

 

She took Wendy's hand and swallowed down her tears; she could do this.

 

"What do you say about a sleepover? We've got a lot of catching up to do."

 

If Wendy had fallen in love with her once before, she would fall in love with her again. This time, she would be her pillar – her walking courage.

 

-

 

They talked about everything like there was nothing wrong with their fairytale.

 

About work, school, friends (Wendy had referred to them as her little students), and family.

 

Wendy didn't seem to have a clue that her parents had forgiven her first run from home; that because she forgot – misunderstanding their good intentions, she ran away _again._ Fate didn't seem to want Wendy to stop from repeating it.

 

Seulgi guessed it was okay – that maybe this was destiny's way of making Wendy grow. Wendy did it once; there was no reason that she couldn't do it again.

 

Seulgi thought it wasn't so bad; Wendy wouldn't be alone anymore, now that she was here. She would be here to help her up – guide her through hardships as her anchor. It was like returning the favor.

 

Her _“I love you’s”_ came out subconsciously; it was a habit that Seulgi didn’t want to get rid of. The first time it came out for _this_ Wendy, Seulgi had thought her heart couldn’t handle keeping her alive anymore.

 

“I love you,” Seulgi had said during a commercial break, having gotten bored waiting for the drama to come on again as Wendy fiddled with the strings of her guitar.

 

She only realized her crucial mistake when a note came out flat, piercing the quiet air with a tone too off to be Wendy’s flawless playing. She was suddenly too terrified to look at her, limbs rigid as she attempted to appear clueless and nonchalant – like it was a normal thing ( _it was, before_ ).

 

Seulgi wanted to apologize for her weird behavior – take it back so Wendy wouldn’t be walking on glass like she always seemed to now (even when she was aware that Seulgi was her friend, she still seemed so careful around her), before she spoke up with a voice so silent that Seulgi wondered if she merely imagined it all.

 

“I love you too.” Her chest kept static, her lungs empty of oxygen as her head whipped to look at Wendy like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing – and _she really couldn’t._ “…Right?” She asked timidly, fringe over her eyes.

Seulgi tried not to cry in her presence, murmuring in return, _“Right,”_ before getting up to lock herself in the bathroom (give Wendy a silly excuse of _“Need to take a number two,”_ ) for the three minutes she allowed herself to break.

 

She didn’t want to stop saying it; didn’t want to stop telling Wendy the truth – so she toughened up, swallowed the past of a time where Wendy meant it too and pretended it didn’t hurt whenever Wendy returned it with a lie.

 

They even got to the topic of romance. Seulgi hadn’t known what to say when Wendy looked her in the eye and asked if she was in love with someone. Her words were jumbled in her mouth, playing with the tips of her tongue; Seulgi didn’t know if she could tell her.

 

“…I am,” she had whispered beneath her breath, both wanting Wendy to hear it and yet not.

 

Wendy had looked ecstatic at the answer, probing on, eyes shimmering with excitement that Seulgi wondered if it would still be there if she told her that it was _her._

“And?”

Seulgi almost grinned at Wendy’s obvious anticipation, how the shorter woman had her hands clasped together, her guitar settled comfortably on her lap.

 

“That’s it; I can’t call her my girlfriend when…” She trailed off, had wondered how much she could reveal before clearing her throat. “…when we didn’t get to sing our confessions together.”

Maybe it was in the way she spoke of it, how her heart bled out of her mouth in how her tone cracked at the edges, that Wendy never pursued her questions any further. Seulgi was a little grateful for it.

 

If she were to have Wendy fall in love with her again, she wanted it to be as natural as before; to have them grow – not out of knowledge and guilt of a forgotten past (but if Wendy ever remembered again, then that was okay too; they could pick up from where they left off).

 

But she couldn’t help but notice the differences, how Wendy kept playing with the lock of her apartment door, sliding it open and close at a fixed interval until she hit her preferred number 43. Sometimes she would end at 33 instead and when Seulgi had asked her about the 10 click difference, Wendy said, _“The noises aren’t as loud today.”_

It was odd.

 

The Wendy she knew never had such a peculiar habit. Even when Wendy had been shy or nervous (which were rare because at most times she was too busy teasing the life out of her), she never resorted to playing a constant rhythm against her wristwatch or lock. In fact, Seulgi was sure she _loathed_ the sounds.

 

And what were these noises in her head that she tried so hard to silence?

 

“Seul?”

 

“Hm?” Seulgi murmured against Wendy’s hair, nose digging deeper until she could feel the back of her head.

 

She loved the peach wafting through her senses, smelling so much like Wendy, like nothing had changed – that they were still the same; lying in Wendy’s bed, having sleepovers like they always did.

 

“I want to move,” Seulgi’s ears perked at Wendy’s statement as the shorter woman curled back, allowed her arms to tighten around her waist. “The noises are too loud here…” Wendy curled her fingers against hers, her touch timid – so unlike her previous counterpart. “I-Is that okay?”

 

Seulgi pressed her lips against the nape of her neck, “Anything you want, Wen.” She murmured across her skin, absorbing the warmth of her heat to draw over her mouth. “I’ll still be here,”

 

She felt Wendy nod and smiled, pulling her closer, feverish for the feel of Wendy pressed against her. It was only their second sleepover together but already they were as comfortable as they were before the accident. Or maybe Seulgi was just desperate for her touch – to feel her again; to close the distance that suddenly kept them apart even when there were no more gaps left between them.

 

“…What are they?” Seulgi attempted to understand, to put herself in Wendy’s shoes, “The noises – do they hurt?”

 

Wendy hadn’t answered for a long while, and just when Seulgi was about to let sleep take over, eyelids drooping to a close, Wendy’s quiet whisper suddenly filled hope in jars with her lungs and heart.

 

“… They’re pictures I don’t remember taking,” she sounded so unsure, so afraid of the unknown, “They’re too familiar; that I should know but I don’t – I just…” Wendy muttered, curling against her pillow. “…Never mind – I’m all over the place; forget it.” But Seulgi understood – dared to have thoughts akin to wishful thinking.

 

For now, as she hushed Wendy with their song, her humming a lullaby to ease the tension she felt in Wendy’s form, Seulgi allowed hope to fill the empty spaces _she_ left.

 

It was going to take time, she knew; but it didn’t matter as long as Wendy was beginning to remember (even when she tried to count them away, they still managed to stay).

 

Seulgi could wait.

 

-

 

She had Wendy visit all the places they frequented: the arcade, the library, the art museum (Seulgi admitted to being a bit of a nerd for paintings), the Build-A-Bigger-Bear, and the music shop.

 

Seulgi was hoping that the walks down memory lane could jog the circuits into a TV-play, have Wendy gradually understand the broken puzzles dismembered in her brain – put them back together even when they didn’t seem out of place to her to begin with.

 

She would hold her hand as they crossed streets (past Wendy had told her that she enjoyed swinging their arms together even when they were already old enough to walk on their own), thankful that this Wendy didn’t mind it either.

 

It was getting easier – pretending to forget that Wendy hadn’t been in love with her. Her heart only continued to grow every moment she spent with Wendy, filling up with affection for the shorter woman, getting to know the other side of the girl she loved.

 

But then suddenly their time got shorter and Seulgi wondered if it was because of the change in scenery.

 

She could still remember Wendy unpacking her luggage, shooing her away with a smile as Seulgi twiddled with the lock on the door of Wendy’s new apartment.

 

“You sure you don’t want me helping you out?” Seulgi had asked again, scoping out the giant living room space, appreciating the simple décor of soft beige against white walls.

 

She saw a large suitcase settled on the farther left side of the room. Must be the roommate’s.

 

“I’m sure,” Wendy chirped, sounding happier now that the images have changed. “Thanks, Seul. Now go be a good teddy bear and make kids happy.” She grinned, passing Seulgi a wave before returning to digging through her bag.

 

Seulgi made sure to lock the door behind her before wandering out the hall, shoving her hands into her black coat pockets and hoping Wendy’s roommate would be kind to her.

 

She had suggested to Wendy about getting a single bedroom instead, that there was no need sharing the rent with a stranger who could very well be a horrible, _horrible,_ person.

 

Wendy had shaken her head, _“It gets lonely and I don’t want to keep bothering you all the time, Seul.”_ Seulgi was about to protest, that _no,_ Wendy could _never_ bother her, but Wendy had hushed her with a smile. _“It feels safe to hide, doesn’t it?”_ Seulgi had no words as Wendy began to dry the dishes; memories of their first encounter blaring bright like fluorescent light. _“I…I don’t want to, anymore.”_

Seulgi couldn’t argue with that – not when _her_ Wendy just flashed before her eyes and disappeared like fleeting lightning.

 

“Oh, sorry.” A woman said as Seulgi shook her head to dismiss the fog in her mind, recovering from the small impact against her arm; smelling whiffs of vanilla and lavender.

 

“Sorry,” Seulgi replied in return, bowing a little; noting jet black hair, grey trench coat, and a coffee, in the stranger’s hand.

 

Seulgi hoped the roommate would be good to her. Or else.

 

-

 

It turned out that Wendy’s roommate was better than that.

 

Seulgi couldn’t recall the number of times she had called Wendy only to hear bouts of silence whenever she mentioned her roommate. How she could easily hear the gears in her lover’s – _they could’ve, should’ve, but weren’t –_ head whirring away, picturing someone else who wasn’t her.

 

She wasn’t oblivious to the minute changes in Wendy’s voice. How it would go just a tad softer, a bit quieter, a little gentler, and a lot bashful. As if she was in love.

 

Seulgi had denied it at first, considered that maybe she was just jealous – that she was allowing the bad green monster to control her judgment; that their time apart allowed it to fester until it was blatantly clear and she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

 

She wanted to see who this person was – how great this person could be to have Wendy look at her the way Seulgi wanted to be looked at again. How this stranger could just waltz in, sweep Wendy off stumbling feet, and pull her in like an overcharged magnet.

 

How this roommate could beat Seulgi at her _best._ That she was no longer the bumbling buffoon she used to be in a giant teddy bear suit hiding away anxiety coloring her skin.

 

She almost got to see whoever it was that had Wendy stuttering even more so with her tongue, cradling the coffee brew in her hands as she waited for the bathroom door to open, until she was suddenly being pushed towards the exit like she wasn’t wanted there anymore.

 

Seulgi was afraid to think further than that.

 

So she ignored the mountain of hurt rising up her chest, clutching the jar between shaking arms. _“Are you that nervous about your roommate, Wen?”_ She said between breaths that struggled to keep steady. _“Relax, I’ll leave you two alone for some bonding time.”_ She tried not to let her lips quiver – to not reveal how she truly felt. _“But one day, I’m going to have to interrogate her to make sure she’s treating you right, okay?”_

Seulgi couldn’t feel anything despite Wendy’s stumbling apology.

 

_“Do you look at her with eyes like that, Wen?”_

Wendy was clueless; she had no idea and Seulgi wanted to scream at her – to just yell out and let her throat burn until she couldn’t anymore. She was starting to get tired of being the only one who _knew._ But how could she make up for all the times she had lied to her when she couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth?

 

Wendy wouldn’t look at her the same way regardless.

 

_“Like what?”_

 

Seulgi finally saw for herself what Wendy had seen in her on the plane; and it was breathtaking. She wished she had known sooner.

 

She attempted to be as brave as Wendy when words from the past left her lips.

 

_“Like a love letter?”_

Seulgi wondered where it all went wrong.

 

-

 

Joohyun was a nice person.

 

Seulgi had recognized the woman as soon as they walked in, finally realizing that Wendy had been part of the group date. The grey jacket, the sleek jet-black hair, the scent of vanilla and lavender – all she was missing was the cup of coffee.

 

She had been critical during their small talk, attempting to get a feel for what she was like – what kind of person she was.

 

For starters, she was charming.

 

“Has Wen-Wen been behaving?” Seulgi began, striking up conversation with the woman who seemed to have it all together.

 

The corner of Joohyun’s lips curled upwards, “Very. She’s perfect.” Seulgi knew that all too well. “And you? How’d you two become friends?” She asked in return, tinkling with her spoon, a curious brow raised.

 

She wondered if she was being interrogated too.

 

Seulgi leant back, crossing her arms. “Bumped into each other when I was working,” it was the truth – even if this Wendy had forgotten. “Has she been eating well?”

 

Joohyun’s nod was minute that Seulgi almost missed it. “She has. Considering she cooks most of the time,”

 

Seulgi wanted to chide her – to tell her that she shouldn’t be using Wendy as some sort of slave and –

 

“So I try to let her know I’m grateful.” Joohyun finished, a ghost of a smile painting her face.

 

Seulgi wanted to ask how until she saw Joohyun’s hand move below the table, held between Wendy’s fingers. She watched how Wendy began to tap her fingertip against Joohyun’s palm (no longer ticking away at her wristwatch) – saw how they shared a smile like it was some sort of secret, stricken to a pause by how Wendy looked like tension was melting away from every count of her skin.

 

The impact against Seulgi’s chest felt oddly akin to getting hit by a bullet train that still wouldn’t stop. _So that was how._

 

Joohyun was helping Wendy to not remember.

 

She only found a brief reprieve when Joohyun looked as white as a ghost at the sight of what she assumed to be an ex – _Yerim, was it?_ But it didn’t really matter because even when Joohyun had a past with someone else, she was Wendy’s present; she was the one who was remembered.

 

So she left with Joy, thanked her for the ride, and locked herself in the bathroom to cry. _Again._

 

-

 

The movie was okay.

 

Seulgi wanted to be like that character Joy – how happiness bled her gold and yellow, with her funky blue hair and skipping steps. She wanted to be _happy._

 

There were times on the way back to Wendy’s apartment that Seulgi considered telling her the truth; considered revealing every detail – every missing part of Wendy’s life that she never realized were gone. She wanted to come clean, start anew, but feared that things would change for the worst.

 

If she told her how she felt – how they _both_ felt for each other, then wouldn’t she be forcing Wendy to play a role based on memories she didn’t remember? Wouldn’t she be guilt tripping her into loving her because she forgot? That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

 

So Seulgi settled for moving on – attempt to forget everything just like how Wendy still forgot.

 

And then she played her song – _their song._

_“Take time, to realize…”_

Seulgi didn’t know what came over her; just that she had to hear it in full – hear Wendy’s voice sing the song she never thought she could hear again. Desperation filled her veins, her love clawing out at her chest, her patience having squeezed her lungs empty as she sung their song together – _long overdue._

Her eyes blurred out from the tears that accumulated for all the times she had felt alone; how she felt happiness so crippling it cut her words short and her judgment erased – her hope finally had wings.

 

Seulgi felt like she finally woke up from a nightmare too long with Wendy’s lips across hers. How plump they felt, soft beneath her touch – warm like the summer back in August where their story began.

 

She remembered how it felt to be loved without her costume.

 

“S-Seul?” Wendy squeaks beneath her, voice that stuttering signature Seulgi learned to find uniquely charming over time. “I-I…”

 

Seulgi knows how out of context it would be; that it served no point – no meaning when the other half had no memory of it, if she were to say it now (their confessions waiting to be said). But she wants to – for her sake, and the Wendy _before._

 

“I wished you were just a voice, but that didn’t happen.” She knows her confession sounds silly, perhaps even out of the ordinary – unorthodox. “I wished you fell in love with me again, but that didn’t happen either.” Seulgi pretends she doesn’t see how Wendy’s eyes glow a look of confusion – how she tries to filter out the haze in her head of memories she can’t remember. “Now I wish you would give us a chance, but I’d be better off lying, wouldn’t I?”

 

Wendy looks so lost – so out of place like how Seulgi had felt all along. But even when minutes pass and Seulgi allows the final shreds of patience to wear thin under such silence, she still can’t move away from her.

 

Seulgi still wants to kiss her.

 

“I’m home,” Joohyun’s voice suddenly rings in the air, crackles the tension like a clap of thunder as Wendy shoves her away just enough to wriggle out from beneath her.

 

“J-Joohyun, welcome back!” The sheer relief in Wendy’s tone elicits a growing fire in her stomach, how green becomes the color flowing through Seulgi’s limbs as she watches them interact so easily, so naturally – so domestically.

 

“Don’t give me a chance,” Seulgi says – _lies_ , interrupting their homey conversation. “Forget I said anything.” _Lies. So many lies. Maybe then it’d go the other way for once._

 

She removes her arm from Wendy’s grasp when she feels smaller fingers wrap around her sleeve, attempt to pull her back – get her to stay. Seulgi can’t bring herself to look at her, not when her heart has already been bare for so long, waiting to be found.

 

She just wants to hide again.

 

Seulgi’s already at the door, unlatching the lock – jacket in hand, when Wendy speaks like she remembers more.

 

“What happened to lesson 1?” Wendy asks, her voice heavy with ghost tales of what had happened long ago, churning something inside of Seulgi, quaking her to _feel_ again.

(“ _Don’t hide anything about yourself because there’s nothing to be ashamed about,”_ )

 

Seulgi wishes she could just stop hoping for more because even when she turns around, gives Wendy one last longing, _searching,_ look – she’s still the only one who’s in love with the same person.

 

“It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore.” Seulgi quips weakly – _bitterly._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … Yeah, this was pretty much Seuldy/Seulgi-centric focused. I wanted to give you readers a clearer view of their past; to reveal more answers to questions that might have been lingering for a while and to better understand their circumstances. Of course, this couldn’t have been done without looking from another pair of eyes.
> 
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> I was also pleasantly surprised by the responses for last chapter – your feelings were so nice to read about. Really.
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> Hope you all have enjoyed this update; until next time.


	7. Storybook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeri doesn't consider herself to be brave. Never was, never is, never would, and probably will never be. She knows this.

Yeri doesn't consider herself to be brave. Never was, never is, never would, and probably will never be. She knows this.

 

She tends to stick close to her world's status quo – conform to its premade notions of what's expected and accepted. Knows right from wrong – black and white. She knows this too.

 

Some are good – that they made sense.

 

Things like, 'School first before anything else,' 'Dress properly; no short skirts,' 'Don't walk through alleyways alone at night,' and so on. Things like these were rules that were easy enough to follow, and they weren't ambiguous in terms of purpose; they were there to make her grow into a better, wiser person. They made sense.

 

But then there were other rules, some not explicitly made but she knew they were there. 'You can hold your female friend's hand, hug, and kiss her; just don't hold on for too long and don't kiss on the lips.'

 

So it never made sense to her when people told her she was brave.

 

"I'm home," Yeri chirped as she clicked the lock to a close that one night back in May.

 

She remembers that particular day. How the slight chill in the air flitted past her cheeks, tainting them a rosy hue from the cold of spring as she walked home; shoes and socks evidently soaked from each splotching step; her clothes and hair sharing the same sentiment.

 

Yeri hadn't cared much for the impromptu shower though, enjoying the quiet journey home and the clinking heavy rain. Though it would've certainly been nice to have an umbrella at the time.

 

"Oh good, you're just in time to meet our precious visitor." Her mother said as she ushered Yeri out of her coat, splashes of loose water dropping to the carpet floor.

 

"Visitor?" Yeri remembered the way her voice still gave way to curiosity, surprised at the notion of a guest in their house. "Why?"

 

Her mother led her to the bathroom, peeling a towel off the steel bar rack and ruffling her hair against it.

 

"Your father wanted his best grad student to practice her thesis presentation here before her actual scheduled defense this coming Thursday." She said as her fingers kneaded the cloth against her scalp, Yeri feeling a bit lost at the explanation. "And she did well, so you get to meet her before she goes."

 

The idea of a stranger (and one of her father's students no less) being in her house felt weird. It felt like one of those dramas she had seen with her sisters about a husband having an affair behind his wife's back with a younger woman.

 

The irrational thought made her want to see this student and kick her out of the house.

 

"Where is she?" Yeri muttered as she unclasped her mother's fingers over her head.

 

"In the living room, packing up her things."

_Great,_ she thought then, circling her mother to confront her herself. Her mother made no move to stop her, most likely presuming she wanted to say hello.

 

She was partially right.

 

Yeri paused by the entrance of the room at the sight of a woman dressed in a white-collar shirt and black skinny jeans flitting through her brown messenger bag. She couldn't see her face from the way raven locks drooped over her side profile, masking what she assumed to be pale skin of her cheek, noting the slim ghostly white shade of her fingers.

 

She looked young.

 

… Like that dreadful woman in the drama who had an affair with the husband (Yeri wondered if she was getting a bit carried away).

 

Yeri cleared her throat.

 

"Hey." She called out, meaning to sound every bit stern and unwelcoming, volume slightly above an indoor voice.

 

Yeri crinkled her brows at the way the woman practically jumped from the sound, her yelp an odd mix of a squeak and screech, her elbow toppling over her notebooks to scatter over the carpet.

 

Meeting giant brown eyes looking startled beyond comprehension made Yeri wonder how she could suddenly go from protective eldest daughter to guilt ridden host in a matter of seconds.

 

Maybe it was in the way the woman could look so lost that it plucked the hardened strings latched to her chest (though the thought itself was silly – she made sure Joy helped her replace them with steel strings; learned how to not care much about others).

 

"I see you've met my brightest student," Her father's hand was heavy on her shoulder.

 

Yeri focused back on the woman, watched her stand and bow, before rising up with a shy smile playing her lips.

 

"... Hi," her voice was as quiet as she looked.

 

 _Pretty,_ was Yeri's immediate first impression; once the woman had her poise settled.

 

She had big eyes – deep pools of chestnut – that looked to be pages of a book she couldn't quite read the words to, carrying secrets under long lashes acting as walls for the woman's thoughts.

 

Demure yet mysterious.

 

There was a certain charm in seeing someone carry both fragility and silent strength from her hands crossed professionally over her stomach to her straightened back and rigid shoulders.

 

If Yeri hadn't seen the woman's earlier flimsy reaction to her simple call, she would have mistaken her as an uptight military lieutenant instead.

 

"Joohyun, meet Yeri – my eldest daughter." Yeri felt her father nudge her forward, let her feet touch the maroon carpet as she teetered towards the slightly taller woman. "Yeri, she's Joohyun – a shy but knowledgeable observer. If you need any advice, she's a keeper."

 

Yeri didn't miss the tints of fatherly affection he had when he mentioned the woman's character traits. It didn't take much brain cells to know he was quite fond of his student.

 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Joohyun,"

 

Yeri stared blankly as the woman bowed her head a little again, distracted by the slight curve on the corner of the stranger's lips. The small curl breaking into a timid smile had drawn color to Yeri's cheeks, suddenly feeling bashful too for being on the receiving end of pretty, _very pretty,_ pearly whites.

 

"Y-Yerim," Yeri cleared her throat, swallowing hard as her hand motioned to shake Joohyun's. "B-But I prefer Yeri."

 

"Okay, Yeri." She said with a tilting smile, a grin fleetingly cracking between her pink lips, as if to taste the name on her tongue.

 

Yeri would've crashed into a heap on the floor from weak, _weak_ knees if it hadn't been for her father standing behind her acting as a pedestal for her jumbled nerves.

 

"It was nice meeting everyone, professor." Joohyun said once her fingers were freed from Yeri's timid grip. "I should get going though or else I'll miss my bus."

 

She turned back to stuff her fallen books into her bag. Yeri had quickly hurried to lend a hand, feeling remorseful for her earlier treatment to the older woman, attempting to hide shivering hands from every touch of their skin.

 

"Are you sure you don't want a ride home, Joohyun?" Yeri's father asked as the woman motioned to stand, looping her arms through her jacket.

 

Joohyun shook her head, an appreciative, _"No that's okay, thanks,"_ flowing past her lips as she hung her satchel over her shoulder.

 

Yeri watched in silent awe as Joohyun motioned to linger at the front door, slipping on her black converse shoes before sending them a meek wave and a fleeting smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

 

Joohyun's whispered, _"Goodbye,"_ was as mute as the stutters in Yeri's fingers as she watched the woman disappear behind a closing door.

 

"So," her father's voice broke the quiet as he patted her shoulder, a ghost of a smile playing his lips. "What do you think? A good kid, isn't she?"

 

Yeri thought back to her first preconceived notion of the woman (before she even got to see her) and thought it was silly of her to assume the worst. Then again, it was always better to be safe than sorry, and startling the stranger (it _was_ her intention in the first place) gave her a glimpse of just how wrong she was for thinking ill of her.

 

Yeri didn't mind being proven otherwise as long as the pay off was better. And Joohyun was.

 

Yeri nodded, "She's cool."

 

Her father's hearty laugh tinkled Yeri's lips into a grin.

 

-

 

Yeri hadn't seen Joohyun since.

 

It wasn't that she was looking for the older girl (though in the deepest part of her mind, something loved to tell her otherwise), it was just that her normal routine of school, study, eat, sleep, and repeat, bored her beyond the scope of the internet and latest gossip.

 

As much as she was updated with the latest trends thanks to her large social circle, Yeri wasn't too keen on keeping up with her fellow peers in terms of fashion sprees to freaking about the current cute boy next door to her classroom.

 

Yeri thought her father would invite the woman again for another visit, whether it was for a grad project or for a simple greeting. High school students rarely interacted with university graduates, so Yeri knew there was no way they could meet other than through her father or sheer luck. As much as Yeri wanted to ask for the girl's whereabouts, she didn't.

 

At best, she was still merely a stranger; there would've been nothing to talk about anyway.

 

So why was she even thinking this hard about her?

 

_Curiosity, maybe._

 

"Here's your order, miss."

 

Yeri smiled as she took her drink, a regular coffee – double double, before settling herself at her usual spot by the corner of the café.

 

She always loved the quaint air of a simple coffee shop, how the lighting could manage to be of smoky amber, adding texture to the burnished walls and marble floorings. The smell of it wafting through gave a charming character to its overall cozy atmosphere. Yeri wondered if it was a coffee café thing to carry such somber ambience.

 

Her drink was warm against her tongue as her eyes swept across the window, gazing out into the pouring rain silvering the streets in monochrome. She recognized the bus stop across the street; a temporary station she frequented as a junior. She didn’t need it anymore when her high school was closer, smiling at the memories of her friends dancing about waiting for the bus to come.

 

Feeling oddly nostalgic (her parents would argue that she wasn’t even that old), Yeri walked past the double doors and into the evening rain, holding up her book bag to act as a shield for her head.

 

Yeri laughed to herself as the pools of water fluttered and splashed against her feet, her socks undoubtedly drenched, ignoring the fact that her uniform was getting soaked more so than when she first entered the café.

 

Trudging into the small shelter, swiping at her bag to loosen the reigns of water latching onto the leather material, Yeri only realized there was another person huddled at the corner when the stranger looked up between locks of ebony so dark that Yeri mistook her for a particular horror movie character.

 

“G-GET AWAY!” She screeched, whacking her book bag against the dark figure attempting to stand, still frighteningly mute until the impact made it _squeak._

 

Since when did it switch from awful nightmarish groans to a squealing bunny?

 

“… Ow,” it – _she_ moaned, whimpering quietly that Yeri suddenly felt apologetic, bending down to recognize pale white skin and a brown messenger bag.

 

It was –

 

“J-Joohyun unnie?!” Yeri yelped, immediately massaging the poor older woman’s scalp, grimacing at Joohyun’s wince at her touch. Her apologies bled out like a broken water pipe. “I am _so, so_ sorry, unnie! I-I didn’t, I didn’t _mean_ to, I just – I thought you were –”

 

“… I didn’t even climb out of a well, yet.”

 

Yeri paused, her fingers stopping at the base of Joohyun’s head, long silky locks filling between the spaces of her skin – soft to the touch.

 

Joohyun wasn’t necessarily _wrong_ ; she was just a little… _off_ with the reference considering the Ring wasn’t actually the film Yeri was thinking about (both movies _did_ have a girl with long dark creepy hair, after all). The two characters were pretty much the same so Yeri couldn’t blame the girl for trying.

 

She was close enough.

 

Yeri laughed, “Yeah, you scared me enough already by just sitting here.” She quipped playfully, going back to kneading her fingers through the older girl’s scalp again, settling beside her on the bench. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

 

Joohyun’s raised eyebrow looked like it couldn’t even comprehend her question, as if to say, _‘Really, now?’_ But despite knowing that she should feel embarrassed, Yeri could only pay attention to the specks of makeup dusting the older woman’s cheeks, how close enough she was to see the flickering sparks in pools of brown; how it shimmered against the topaz of the streetlight.

 

“… You’re asking me what I’m doing waiting at a bus stop?” She deadpanned, a tilt at the corner of her lips curling upwards, clearly amused.

 

Yeri had enough self-control not to show that she was flustered, rolling her eyes instead to keep the pink from rising up her neck.

 

“It’s a plausible question,” Yeri retorted, unable to remove her fingers from smooth strings of ebony. She didn’t want to. “Who knows, maybe you just want to sit here and stay out of the rain.”

 

“Isn’t that what _you’re_ doing?” Joohyun asked, leaning in closer as if to make it easier for her, shortening the distance between them. “Because I’m just waiting for the bus.”

 

Yeri was surprised at the woman’s poised composure. There was no hint of the shy grad student that had visited her home, from the way she didn’t shift from her touch, how she didn’t seem bothered by their proximity.

 

Yeri’s fingers still couldn’t help but continue to massage through soft locks.

 

She pretended not to be the only one suddenly affected by the minute gap between them; pretended not to notice the way her hands have lowered to linger just behind Joohyun’s ears, her thumbs cradling the space just below the back of soft flesh.

 

The intimacy startled Yeri back in place.

 

“O-Oh, um, yes. That’s right,” her hands jolted back to her sides, her fingers tingling from the memory of Joohyun’s warm skin. “I just – I like the rain?”

 

It wasn’t really a lie.

 

Joohyun just hummed, seemingly unbothered by her jumpy behavior, merely leaning back against the transparent wall of the bus shelter as if exhausted from the wait.

 

Yeri took note of the black umbrella settled beside the older girl, spots of water dripping off from its folded edges. She wondered how long she had been in here waiting.

 

“The bus is late,” Joohyun said aloud, as if having read her mind.

 

Yeri kept mute as she settled against the glass wall, feeling her clothes stick tighter to her skin, her skirt a flimsy cover against the cold of the steel bench. She glanced at the older girl’s attire, noting navy blue jeans and her signature brown pea coat.

 

She never noticed just how sharp Joohyun’s jaw line was, to how the slope of her nose was as defined as the streaks of red Yeri got from every marked test that screamed _‘Do better – what’s with the 55%?’_ for each exam she has ever written.

 

Yeri pretended the reminder didn’t bother her.

 

“Shouldn't you be shy?” She said out of the blue, away from the thoughts that haunted her of how _not_ perfect she was as an eldest daughter.

 

Joohyun didn’t seem bothered at all.

 

“Normally, yes. But right now? No. Why would I be when _you're_ the one who whacked me with a bag?” She chuckled, lighthearted like she was fond of the memory; it made Yeri’s insecurities trickle back to disappear for the moment.

 

Yeri fiddled with the folds of her skirt.

 

“... Oh, right. Sorry about that,” she muttered, remembering her previous mistake, still feeling apologetic for it.

 

Gentle fingers played against her head, patting gently.

 

“You’re forgiven.” Joohyun said quietly, a hint of her meek persona prodding against the edges of her voice before pulling her hand back to settle in her coat pocket again.

 

It was a pleasant surprise.

 

Yeri realized, as they shifted back to their shared silence with background noise of rain going, _plop plop plop,_ playing as a soundtrack to their company – that if Joohyun was comfortable enough, she was as snarky as her shrewd grandmother, and as sweet as her best friend Joy (when she didn’t feel like being much of a devil – which wasn’t very often).

 

Yeri wondered if she should say her thoughts out loud.

 

“My bus is coming,” Joohyun’s statement broke strings of pictures in Yeri’s head as she watched the older girl stand.

 

Yeri rose from her seat, “Oh, okay. I guess I'll, um, see you whenever?” She probed timidly, clutching to her book bag against her chest.

 

Joohyun clasped at her black umbrella, “Are you walking?”

 

“Yes, but why –”

 

Yeri didn’t have enough time to wonder why she was asking when she felt Joohyun’s fingers curl around hers, the feel of slick plastic rubbing against her palm. It was Joohyun’s umbrella.

 

“Take this,” Joohyun murmured, making Yeri tighten a fist around the handle with slender pale fingers. “If you get sick because of the rain, then at least I could say I tried.”

 

Yeri would have argued the moment could have been sweeter without the last few words, but maybe Joohyun wasn’t much of an affectionate type in the first place.

 

“But don't you need it?” She asked, looking up as Joohyun looped her messenger bag over her shoulder.

 

Joohyun’s smile was small as she motioned to exit the shelter, the bus pausing to a stop in front of them.

 

“I'm not the one who’ll be playing in the rain.”

 

Before Yeri could protest, squeak out a _“No, I don’t really_ play! _”_ Joohyun was already waving her goodbye, walking up the stairs of the bus until the doors closed and Yeri couldn’t see her anymore.

 

But despite not knowing where the older girl sat, or whether she could even see her still, Yeri continued to wave her farewell until the bus faded into the grey of silver rain.

 

Joohyun’s warmth tickled at her fingers, how their skins had momentarily touched and Yeri wondered why her heat still lingered even when she was already gone.

 

-

 

Yeri figured she could give the umbrella back herself.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her father (at least, not when it came to personal feelings), she would just much rather see Joohyun herself.

 

They weren’t really _strangers,_ anymore. Or at least, that was what Yeri thought. They talked about – well, they didn’t talk _much,_ but it was certainly better than not having spoken at all. There were jokes too, and Joohyun had teased her a bit – so that must’ve been a sign; it counted for something (Yeri pretended that this wasn’t all based on that one fated meeting they had in the rain – _pfft,_ not at _all_ ).

 

Why Yeri bothered to think up many reasons – _any reason,_ as to why they could work out as friends and not just be mere acquaintances with her father as the middleman, Yeri didn’t know.

 

“Yeri? What are you doing here?” That signature tone that managed to be both husky and delicate filtered into her ears, crawling in like a melody she couldn’t get out of her head.

 

Yeri bowed as she entered the laboratory, greeting strangers (whom she assumed were her father’s other batch of grad students) until she made it to Joohyun hovering near a fume hood.

 

She watched the older girl pipette a blue solution into a centrifuge tube before capping it to a close, setting it to the side (it helped that she had a tour once before when her father had first gotten the lab room).

 

“Just returning this,” Yeri chirped, gesturing to the black umbrella between her fingers. “Thanks, by the way.” She said, watching the woman peel off nitrile gloves and throwing it into the trash bin behind them.

 

Joohyun nodded her head, a growing smile curving the corners of her lips.

 

“So did you have fun?” She asked, almost teasingly, grasping the handle between Yeri’s palms, their skins threading together at the seams of their foggy friendship. “Playing in the rain, I mean.”

 

Yeri tried not to stare for too long at how Joohyun could look great in a white lab coat – her hair tied up into a ponytail, accentuating the edges of her jaw to the slopes of her neck.

 

“Hey, I’m more mature than you think.” She retorted, attempting to remove the thoughts of Joohyun invading her mind’s eye.

 

The woman snorted, “That wasn’t what I saw when you were jumping in the puddles before you assaulted me with your bag.” She snapped back playfully, a teasing brow arching upwards.

 

Yeri’s jaw dropped, a pout already curling across her lips as she attempted to dissuade the poor image Joohyun had of her. She trailed after the taller girl as she swept past her to scribble down on a notebook.

 

“… Didn’t I apologize for that already?” Yeri whined, her cheeks unconsciously puffing out at the way Joohyun’s lips drew into a Cheshire smile.

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t bring it up again.”

 

Yeri rolled her eyes, huffing as Joohyun patted at her back, as if to say, _‘Thanks for trying,’_

 

“Great,” Yeri huffed in mock offense but she was grateful for their ease of a simple conversation – like they weren’t just strangers two nights ago.

 

“It _is_ certainly a great conversation starter,” Joohyun began, her smile never leaving her lips.

 

“Right, like ‘Hey, nice to meet you. I got hit by my boss’ daughter because she thought I was the Grudge.’”

 

Joohyun furrowed her brows, her lips curling into a pout and Yeri thought then that she must be going crazy for thinking it was as cute as –

 

“Isn’t it the Ring?”

 

The circuits in her head stopped short, attempting to process the question as Joohyun looked at her like she had on an outfit that was as horrendous as her everyday wear.

 

“ _That’s_ what you chose to dwell on?” Yeri choked out her surprise, trying to cover her laugh with a hand but the tremors were already clawing at her throat and stomach.

 

“Yeah.” Joohyun said simply, tapping a finger to her chin, as if contemplating. “Everything else was right up until that point,”

 

 _Cute,_ was what Yeri thought then, unable to help herself as she swallowed in the picture of a clueless Joohyun, soak in the image reel of the older girl looking lost – an innocent expression painting pale skin that mirrored a naïve child’s.

 

Yeri didn’t want to correct the girl – the two characters were pretty much identical twins anyway, and let slip laughter that carried happiness in waves of a hurt stomach and gasping pair of lungs.

 

When Joohyun joined in her giggling spree, her eyes curving into tiny crescent moons, Yeri wanted nothing more than to have this moment stuck on repeat.

 

-

 

Out of fate – or perhaps persistence on Yeri’s part, they became close friends.

 

They hung out whenever they could, whether it was during their lunch breaks (if they managed to have them at the same time), or over the weekend (as long as Joohyun didn’t have any projects).

 

Their times spent together were easier to maintain due to Joohyun’s new mode of transport; a simple black sedan that allowed for spontaneous planning and plenty of detours; Yeri loved it.

 

At first, she didn’t consider them to be much of a match in terms of friendship compatibility. Yeri feared that their relationship was driven only by her own admiration for the older girl, attempting to understand why she had googly eyes even when Joohyun wasn’t looking.

 

Yeri figured that maybe she also held fascination for the woman, how she carried herself like a mystery book, yet enchanting enough to be as soft as a children’s fairytale.

 

The more she got to know her, the more Joohyun bloomed like a prism flower, holding a spectrum of colors from violet secrets to red honesty. Yeri had sunken into a mesh of hues that spun blue confusion and orange frustration, stuck between the color wheel with no way out but to fade in into Joohyun’s eyes that carried promises of a forever with her.

 

Yeri wasn’t blind.

 

She didn’t know when it started – _how_ it even got there; just that it _did_ at one point, somewhere between their first true conversation at the bus stop to the swirls of moments they’ve been having together; whether it be simple hangouts at a coffee shop or spending time finding clothes more fitting for Joohyun (fashion wise – the girl was a walking disaster).

 

Yeri would notice the smallest of differences, how the older girl would open every door for her (it wasn’t like she minded – she liked the show of chivalry), or how she would just stare off as if lost in a daze from something on her face whenever they ate out together (it made Yeri self conscious – what if there _was_ always something on her face?).

 

Joohyun would even tangle their fingers together, like what normal girls usually did when they were close enough to – but Joohyun would hold her just a bit closer, pull her in just enough so Yeri could mesh against her arm, urge Yeri to latch onto it with a longing look that kept making promises that Yeri was afraid to hear.

 

Joohyun’s eyes looked too much like hope and Yeri feared the fact that she could easily make it disappear. If she were to just say the wrong thing, _do_ a wrong thing; hurt Joohyun without meaning to, then Yeri would rather not face it at all.

 

So Yeri pretended not to see that Joohyun was making promises too close that she could easily mistaken it for an ‘I love you’.

 

But it was hard.

 

“On second thought, _I'll_ stick with the red lipstick. You can just stay your old plain self.” Yeri said matter-of-factly, scowling at the beautiful hue of ruby painted across plump lips.

 

They were just out shopping together.

 

Yeri wanted Joohyun to look more her age (though her face alone already told stories of just how young she was), so she opted for a new wardrobe and stylistic makeup befitting of an attractive woman.

 

She had Joohyun try out various brands, coloring her lips differing shades of lipstick with a practiced hand, and attempting to hide her squealing glee at every color that seemed to suit Joohyun like a tailored dress made just for her.

 

Choosing a color for Joohyun wasn’t the problem; it was the fact that Joohyun looked too good in _all_ of them that Yeri started scavenging for a shade that _didn’t_ make Joohyun out to be Aphrodite incarnate.

 

Yeri had to bite her lip whenever Joohyun asked her if the new color was okay (she had to resist pulling the older girl in by the neck _15_ times – the _horror_ ), Yeri’s hand often stuck in a tremor whenever she continued to apply the final streaks across soft flesh, Joohyun waiting as patient as ever – her eyes still clearly bearing vows; wanting to be read aloud.

 

She couldn’t handle it anymore after the 16th shade of red; calling quits as soon as it lit up a flame in Yeri’s chest at Joohyun’s tiny smile, the color curving along with it and her simple question – _“Does it look okay?”_

 

Oh _no._

 

“Wasn't that basically the plan?” Joohyun’s voice called Yeri back to the problem at hand, blinking away the haze of a memory from just a few minutes ago.

 

“... For _you,_ maybe.” Yeri adopted her façade of being completely fine and totally-unaffected self, pretending that she wasn’t just imagining coloring her own lips the same shade by using Joohyun’s as her pen. “My plan was to make you look a bit more fashionable, like, oh I don't know – your age.”

 

Her sense of rhythm of catching up with reality without crumbling under fantasies was thankfully still as sharp as ever.

 

Joohyun bothered to look scorned, a hand to her chest.

 

“What's wrong with how I dress?”

 

“It’s boring af.”

 

“...'Af?'”

 

“Get with the times, unnie.”

 

“Isn't that why _you're_ here?” Joohyun asked, gesturing to Yeri's work of red lipstick smeared carefully across Joohyun's lips, a smirk painting her face.

 

Yeri felt a bit proud.

 

“...You're right. But now I want you to take it off.” She quipped, frowning at the way Joohyun’s lips looked deliciously delightful.

 

Joohyun’s mouth curled into a pout similar to her own.

 

“Why?”

 

Yeri glanced away, well aware of the pounding rhythm going louder in her chest, vibrating hard that her bones could feel it quake.

 

“Because you can't go around looking this hot and not expect me to be mad about it.” She murmured weakly, a mixture of a squeak and a yelp protruding at the final syllable, unable to hide the tremor rupturing past her throat.

 

Joohyun still had on that annoying smirk (even from the corner of her eyes, Joohyun’s lips still managed to catch her attention – it didn’t help that her hair was tied up to a ponytail again), Joohyun’s brow having risen at the sound of ‘hot’, nudging Yeri with an elbow that Yeri attempted to swat away.

 

“Why would you be mad though –”

 

“Because,” She paused, biting her lip again. “I don’t want you to look this good in front of anyone else but me.” Yeri huffed, crossing her arms, resembling – for the first time, a child closer to her own age, her mask of maturity peeling off at the thought of Joohyun having eyes for someone else.

 

It was irrational, she knew, but the idea of Joohyun not really needing her (the older girl never really did – that, Yeri knew too) scared her far more than the monsters at night.

 

“I wouldn’t want that, either. “ Joohyun whispered, her voice just a tad lower than normal, huskier like it was lined with a secret and Yeri was startled at the shiver silvering along the contours of her spine.

 

It sounded oddly close to a confession. Yeri had an inkling it was.

 

It was just a matter of whether she’d acknowledge it.

 

Yeri looked up to see brown eyes that never really changed – that the obscurity of doubt and caution had cleared away, leaving words behind that Joohyun didn’t seem to know how to say.

 

“… Yeri,” she called out, like it was a sin to say her name – and it sort of _was_ with the way Joohyun’s tongue curled around it like a caressing hand.

 

Yeri felt the air pause in her throat, suddenly holding her breath at the tension flitting between the tiny spaces that kept their lips apart.

 

And then it was gone.

 

“Aren’t you going to remove it now?” Joohyun chirped like she wasn’t aware of the fleeting moment they just shared together, like she wasn’t just about to kiss her (Yeri knew she did – she _had_ to, with the way her eyes still gleamed a shadowy want).

 

Taking Joohyun’s form of playful mercy, knowing the older girl had given her a chance to take reign but Yeri hadn’t been ready to make the same promise, Yeri giggled wistfully, swiping at Joohyun’s mouth with a cloth.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just hold still,” she quipped back gently, thankful for the patience that continued to bleed from Joohyun in wisps of a small smile and a knowing pair of auburn pools.

 

But as Yeri continued to make the ruby fade from Joohyun’s lips, her thumb lingering at the edges of soft flesh, Yeri wondered how things would’ve gone if she had listened to the ringing in her chest and not the world’s blueprint script in her head.

 

Yeri wouldn’t have minded at all if Joohyun had kissed her.

 

She sort of wished she did.

 

-

 

It was in the middle of August when Yeri thought it’d be nice to be brave for once.

 

“Why do you always tie your hair up?” Yeri had asked as they stepped out into the rain, Joohyun’s black umbrella shielding the two of them as they huddled close together (she only ever saw it down once when Joohyun was a guest that first time in her house – and at the bus stop).

 

“Because it gets in the way when I'm reading my notes and textbooks.” Joohyun said simply, curling Yeri’s arm under her own.

 

“But you don't read them 24/7.” Yeri quipped lightly, automatically coiling her fingers against Joohyun’s grey jacket sleeve (which she had bought for her as a just-because present; much to the older girl’s delight and dismay – it _was_ rather pricey).

 

“Like how you don't read yours at all but that you should because at this rate you won't be able to catch up this semester?”

 

Yeri made a gesture of a broken heart, cradling her chest, mock hurt spilling from her lips (they were close enough that Joohyun played as her tutor for science subjects).

 

“... Very funny, unnie. Have you always been this rude?”

 

Joohyun laughed, speaking gently as if to ease her remark.

 

“It's true. And yes, always.” She said, smirking – looking smug that Yeri slapped her on the arm to chastise her teasing.

 

“ _As._ I. Was. _Saying,_ ” Yeri began, drawling out each chord of syllables as they turned a corner, “You look great with your hair down.”

 

Joohyun scoffed, “It's a hassle. It gets in the way.”

 

Yeri shrugged, “Fair enough. At least I know you're not insecure about your face or anything.”

 

“I have _plenty_ more to worry about than how I look.” Joohyun retorted, poking at Yeri’s rib.

 

The younger girl giggled, “I can tell from the way you dress. Because, you know, the lack of fashion sense is _strong_ in you, you oldie–”

 

Suddenly she was put into a headlock, Joohyun’s knuckles rubbing affectionately against her scalp.

 

“Oh shut it.” Joohyun growled, playful.

 

Yeri loved moments like these. How they could motion back and forth between soothing camaraderie to romantic pretend of not knowing there was something more they could share.

 

She remembered that particular moment, where the sky was orange and she had visited the bus stop again. Yeri had a bit of an argument with her father, scowling at a memory of a toxic lecture:

 

_“Stay away from that friend of yours – that ‘Joy’ girl.”_

_“Why?!”_

_“Because she’s drilling stupid things into your head and you’re actually_ listening _to her.”_

Yeri never once considered the things Joy told her to be stupid.

 

They had simply gone into the topic of gay marriages being allowed abroad – that they were now able to make vows with people of the same gender; promise an everlasting forever just like their straighter counterparts.

 

Joy had opened that window, having mentioned her current crush being a girl with monolid eyes (it sounded really cute – with the way Joy kept stuttering her name, trying to act all tough like her crush didn’t bother her that much. Pfft, Joy wasn’t fooling anyone).

 

But the news was so interesting that Yeri couldn’t help but bring it up at home (not even her large group of friends mentioned anything like that at all – she wondered if they knew; _was_ it even something new? Or had it been approved long ago and she just wasn’t aware?).

 

Her father was less than pleased (and that had been putting it _lightly_ ), her blood having rippled with anger that she couldn’t handle looking at him anymore and had stormed out to settle the chaos in her head.

 

She wasn’t surprised to see Joohyun waiting at the bus stop again.

 

 _“Bad day?”_ The older girl had asked, patting the space beside her, ushering Yeri to take a seat.

 

Yeri hadn’t bothered telling her much of the details. She wasn’t sure if Joohyun would react the same way – as violent as her father, or if she was as open as Joy. She didn’t take the risk.

 

 _“Yup,”_ she replied simply, keeping hush as Joohyun hummed her acknowledgement, not probing any further.

But maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding how she felt like Yeri previously thought, remembering how Joohyun had nudged her by the elbow, her voice cradling warmth like it carried it between the seams.

 

 _"Call me,"_ Yeri looked up, her fingers pausing their rhythmic motion of picking at her cellphone the moment Joohyun snatched it away. _"Whenever you need me. Whenever you're thinking of me – and even when you're not.”_ She almost blanched at the thought as Joohyun sent her a smirk her way; her eyes sprinkled with mirth, brows teasing. _“Whenever you're scared, or feel alone, or happy, or bored, or angry. Even when you just want someone to listen, or when you just want to hear my voice – call me."_

Yeri’s eyes had widened as Joohyun punched in her number (she was surprised Joohyun even knew how to navigate through it considering she had no idea how to work out personal messages online – Yeri had to _teach her_ ).

 

The gesture was sweet; Yeri had no clue what to say. She didn’t really get a chance to either as Joohyun’s bus rolled in, the older girl passing her phone back with a gaze that carried more words than Joohyun would ever say (her suggestion of calling her was the longest she had ever heard her speak at once).

 

Yeri’s grateful ‘thank you,’ only left her lips once Joohyun disappeared into the crowded bus, watching her fade against the distance.

 

When she no longer felt as bitter towards her father, pretending she wasn’t questioning the blueprint of a white picket fence that she had learned to live by, Yeri called Joohyun that same night – and every night thereafter.

 

Sometimes she wondered if it was okay to just stay this way – to have best of both beauties where friendship mattered just as much as that promise for _more._

But during wisps of quiet where only their footsteps echoed into their ears, (along with this current silver rain – _plop plop plop_ ) Yeri would look at Joohyun. She would catch cloudy hues of brown eyes; how they’d look just a tiny bit sadder, a little more lost – a little more _insecure._

Yeri would be reminded that Joohyun’s patience had limits, too.

 

When Yeri unclasped Joohyun’s arm around her head, freeing herself of the older girl’s affectionate headlock so she could latch onto it instead, Yeri thought it was okay to be brave for once.

 

And what better moment to take her first step than to go for a leap her heart's been yearning to try since the moment Joohyun told her she hadn’t climbed out of a well yet?

 

Without the tremor normally flickering through her veins, her arms looped around Joohyun's shoulders, hands reaching up for the messy ponytail tied on the back of her head.

 

Yeri's eyes flitted to Joohyun's for that split second she took to have her fingers clasp the hair tie, watched how Joohyun's gaze fluttered to her lips and felt a smile curl at the corners as she untangled ebony locks from its circle string cage.

 

Maybe it was in the way Yeri combed her fingers through silky onyx as it cascaded across her hands, flowing down in waves as she looped the hair tie around her wrist (she'll give it back later), Yeri's eyes never once leaving Joohyun's, that made Joohyun's breath hitch; the woman's chest visibly rising up to a pause.

 

Unable to resist how their lips left fleeting caresses from their proximity, teasing of what could be, Yeri filled the gap with a kiss that carried her three month confession, attempting to bring back the oxygen into Joohyun's lungs with words resembling too close to an 'I love you'.

 

Yeri never imagined her first kiss would be as romantic as a cliché of having it under an umbrella in the pouring rain of a sweltering summer heat in the middle of August. But then again, it wasn't entirely strict to a black and white script, because here she was – with another girl.

 

And Yeri wouldn't have it any other way.

 

“… I should’ve made you wear that red lipstick,” Yeri mumbled as soon as they allowed the smallest gap to fill the space between them; her lips brushing syllables against Joohyun’s mouth.

 

“Well, _you_ are, aren’t you?” Joohyun chuckled, delight coloring her eyes (Yeri had never seen this much happiness in her before – it warmed her), readjusting her hold on her umbrella. “I’ll probably be wearing it too, at this rate.”

 

Yeri grinned, pulling her in, whispering her heart against tender lips.

 

“… Oldie.”

 

Joohyun was about to protest – but Yeri pressed their mouths together, grinned at her squeak before pulling back again.

 

“Call me Yerim,”

 

“’Yerim’?”

 

“My parents call me that when they’re being serious,” Yeri muttered against her lips, brushing her fingers through Joohyun’s silky locks, “I want you to _always_ be serious with me.” She whispered desperately (she didn’t know why she was pleading – just that she _was_ ), her arms tightening around Joohyun’s neck.

 

Joohyun’s kiss carried her name, her mumbled approval _“Yerim,”_ quaking warmth against her lips.

 

Yeri loved it.

 

-

 

She didn’t think anything scared Joohyun. She didn’t look the type.

 

But it turned out that the older girl _was_ scared of a lot of things – and that was _a lot._ It didn’t have to look particularly frightening; it just had to _happen_ and once it did, Joohyun would jolt like she was strapped in an electric chair.

 

Yeri had found it fun to tease the taller girl, make it a bit of a habit to give her jump scares, whether it was a typical _“Boo!”_ to an innocent _“Hi!”_

 

Joohyun never really minded once the initial shock was gone – she would play pranks in return to get back at her. Yeri loved it.

 

But when Joohyun’s apartment had a simple fire drill and Yeri was waiting for Joohyun to make her way out of the building (Yeri had been to the grocery store several houses down, Joohyun having sent her out on an errand), she began to worry when the alarm finished ringing and Joohyun never made it out.

 

She hurried up the stairs to her room, twisting the knob (Yeri was glad Joohyun had given her a key), and immediately went scavenging for the older girl.

 

“Unnie?!” Yeri couldn’t hide the fear lodged up her throat; her lungs squeezing tightly for air she knew wouldn’t come unless Joohyun was okay. “Unnie, where are you?!”

 

Her panic only increased at the silence that still loomed over the apartment, fear crippling her legs at the fact that there was no sound – Joohyun was supposed to be just folding laundry.

 

Yeri spotted the piles of neatly stacked t-shirts loitering the sofa – but there was still no sign of Joohyun.

 

She dashed for Joohyun’s room, then into her roommate’s – nothing.

 

Yeri wanted to scream, frustration burning along her limbs, her thoughts whirling away at images of what could’ve went wrong. Maybe Joohyun just left to fetch something?

 

She wanted to think it was true; that the older girl probably forgot to tell her (Joohyun was sort of a forgetful person too), until she noted the tiny gap of the bathroom door, slightly left ajar.

 

Hesitantly, Yeri pushed it open, eyes widening at the sight of Joohyun curled against the corner of the bathroom, hands covering her ears like she was trying to block out everything, her face buried against her knees.

 

Yeri knelt down to sit beside her, patting a gentle palm across Joohyun’s shoulder.

 

“… Unnie?” She whispered, her panicked heart easing fear away from her throat as Joohyun looked up.

 

“Y-Yerim?” She croaked out, as if she wasn’t expecting to see her.

 

Yeri could only smile, immediately wrapping Joohyun into her arms, and remembered how relieved she felt to know the older girl was okay.

 

She had learned then that Joohyun was afraid of loud noises – that as soon as the fire alarm went off, Joohyun had looked for a spot where the sound was quietest.

 

Yeri had scolded her for it – she even told her that if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was merely a simple fire drill – that there wasn’t an _actual_ fire, then she would’ve likely burned to death.

 

Joohyun had a small disarming smile before squeezing Yeri’s nose with tender fingers.

 

“That’s why _you’re_ here, right?” She said, affection spilling past her lips that Yeri felt warmth ignite as soon as it slipped into her ears and cradled her heart. “So I can count on you,”

 

Yeri remembered kissing her then, her _“Yes, always,”_ slipping between their lips to draw against Joohyun’s mouth, hoping her promise made it to Joohyun’s heart too.

 

-

 

The fact that they worked – that they melded colors together from hot to cold and still managed to _work_ despite their age difference burdened Yeri more than her broken promises.

 

They didn’t last as long as Yeri wanted them to, or maybe a forever was just asking too much.

 

The first few months were amazing; like a distant dream became more than that in warmth of gentle arms around her during sleepovers at Joohyun’s apartment (the older girl had gotten kicked out of her home because of who she was – who _they were_ ), to coffee kisses Joohyun learned to love despite her contempt for the drink itself.

 

Yeri had tried to stop her habit of running on caffeine, but she was already reliant on it to stay on top of things; so she attempted to chew gum after each cup.

 

It didn’t work out either – not because she didn’t want to, but because Joohyun insisted that she could handle a bit of the dreaded coffee taste if it meant tasting Yeri a few seconds later (the older girl had compared her to a candy that had a sweeter flavor once the initial horror was out of the way).

 

Yeri still remembered how she slapped Joohyun on the arm, chiding her for saying something so _dirty,_ despite being inwardly ecstatic at the thought of Joohyun adjusting just for her. She was getting spoiled.

 

 _“You make bitter coffee taste sweet,”_ Yeri had told her then, swooning at Joohyun’s attempt to endure what she abhorred so much.

 

Joohyun had mocked a grimace, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. Yeri rolled her eyes, before coming up with an idea of her own – her way of helping Joohyun out too.

 

 _"How about this unnie; you smoke to forget things right?"_ The younger girl recalled their conversation one August night, how she had probed the older girl as to why she puffed out cigarettes. _"Replace the smoking by thinking of me, okay?"_ Yeri suggested then, wanting to play as an anchor for a woman who acted as hers. _"Could you do that for me? Please?"_

 

And Joohyun had listened.

 

It had worked for her (it took time of course, but Joohyun had patience and Yeri learned to acquire such precious virtue too) and Yeri was proud.

 

She wanted Joohyun to live a long and happy life – one where toxin no longer corroded at her lungs, life bleeding out through clouds of smoke. So when Joohyun finally managed to no longer need a pack of cigarettes to function, her half empty box left untouched for the remainder of their time together inside a drawer of Joohyun’s kitchen, Yeri would kiss her as a reward for every moment Joohyun spent lingering at the counter pondering on whether she should take in poison again and leaving it closed.

 

Yeri’s own bundle of problems – school grades, peer pressure, family expectations – they didn’t burden her as much anymore. Not when Joohyun kept her company, having guided her with a voice of blue calm and red compassionate hands.

 

Discord no longer existed when Joohyun played as her hope for more than what was in a box filled with maps of an ideal world where they weren’t allowed to stare longer than two girls would, or hug longer than two friends should.

 

 _“… ‘Irene’ unnie,”_ Yeri had attempted the nickname with untrained lips, sounding out the two syllables as it rolled off her tongue.

 

Joohyun had on that cute lost look again, _“Why ‘Irene’?”_

 

Yeri had taken a class in Greek mythology, remembering one particular goddess that she knew Joohyun embodied a bit too well.

 

_“Because unnie, you bring me peace.”_

 

But she couldn’t say the same for herself.

 

Yeri didn’t know how long it was going on for; just that it was happening – and without her knowledge.

 

During their times together at Joohyun’s apartment (Yeri kept their relationship a secret from her parents; Joohyun’s was a learning example of how they’d likely react – lots of screaming and a step out the door), Yeri would catch a glimpse of Joohyun wincing at mundane things; whether it was lifting a glass of water, to getting up from her seat.

 

Yeri had probed her about it – how Joohyun looked more tired, getting weaker the more times they spent together. Joohyun had typically shrugged her off, said it was nothing – that her classes were just giving her a hard time, that _“It’s normal – don’t worry about it,”_ but Yeri always did.

 

Who would get a sore wrist and a limping leg from lectures that required students to just follow along with a paper and pen?

 

Joohyun tried to keep her mouth shut – hide away bruises that marred her skin beneath long sleeved sweaters and pants that managed to fool anyone else but Yeri.

 

It took a fast hand and a hard grip on Joohyun’s wrist to know the extent of just how much damage Joohyun kept beneath familiar warm smiles and eyes that still held promises for her.

 

Joohyun’s yelp fueled wrath inside Yeri’s chest, swallowing her in a fire of contempt for anyone who laid their hands on the older girl. She had asked her who it was – if it was by one person, or by a group; and why they would do such a thing.

 

Joohyun had attempted to dispel her anger by saying it was all just a silly accident – but Yeri knew better.

 

She just didn’t think she’d get her answer from her father as soon as she got home, having felt worried for leaving Joohyun to tend to herself at her apartment (her roommate was unreliable; always out partying).

 

“Were you just out with Joohyun?” He asked as he sipped from his cup of black coffee, newspaper in hand.

 

Yeri hadn’t thought much of it at first.

 

“Yeah,” she said, reaching up at the cupboard, motioning to make her own cup of her favorite drink.

 

He scoffed, “She always _was_ a bit stubborn.”

 

Yeri had managed to stop her favorite squirtle cup from crashing onto the floor, settling it back into the safety of the cupboard, her fingers shaking from a tremor rising in her chest.

 

“… What?” Was all Yeri could muster, turning slowly to see her father flip a page of his newspaper.

 

“You heard me.” He said simply and Yeri started seeing hues of red.

 

“… What. Did. You. _Do?!_ ” She growled slowly, anger quaking against the walls of her throat, taking gradual steps towards a man who didn’t seem bothered at all.

 

“I paid girls her age to teach her of what life would be like if she continued frolicking with my daughter.” He answered with no hint of an apology between his perfect straight teeth.

 

Yeri was glad her mother and two sisters weren’t home to hear her squander the tiny threads of respect she had left for her father (they always had a more fragile relationship – he wanted her to be academically top tier; she simply wasn’t).

 

“And you still have the _nerve_ to keep her as your student?” Yeri circled the kitchen table to tower over him, puffing her chest, crossing her arms.

 

“Because she’s diligent. And it isn’t like she knows it’s my doing, either.”

 

Yeri’s fists shook against her arms, clenching fingers against poor limbs, digging nails through her purple sweater (it was Joohyun’s favorite – given by the older girl as a keepsake for times where Yeri didn’t want to feel alone).

 

“Then I’ll tell her,”

 

“And risk her whole career when I only need to put in a ‘good’ word or two as her reference?” He retorted quickly, his brow arching sharply.

 

Yeri knew there was no point – he was _always_ right, anyway.

 

She attempted to let her frustration fizzle out between the stuttered breaths scratching at her throat; attempted to wrench out the feeling of hate bubbling against her stomach, breathing slowly so she wouldn’t wring his neck and squeeze his air pipe – _she can’t; he’s her_ father.

 

“Then what do you want,” her words crunched into a growl between gnashed teeth, as if to surrender (and for Joohyun, she _was_ ). “To get you to stop. What will it take?”

 

He looked pleased with her plea – looking happy to see her _beg._

She didn’t need a perfect score on any of her exams to know what he wanted from her (it wasn’t like she scored a 1 with a double 0 during the 16 years of her life, anyway).

 

With a mind in discord of pictures with Joohyun – how her hair would usually be up (she had an inkling feeling it had an additional reason for staying tied up now – much to Yeri’s delight) and Yeri would get to untangle black tresses with her fingers after a long day from school in the warmth of Joohyun’s apartment, Yeri didn’t want to let go.

 

_“Just end it with her.”_

 

But she did.

 

_“Okay.”_

 

Yeri went right back to playing by the rulebook – only if it meant she could give Joohyun peace like the older girl did (still does) for her.

 

But not without curling up against her pillow in the safe haven of her bedroom, pressing the ‘call’ button and listening to it ring until Joohyun’s signature rasp soothed her pounding heart beating against her eardrums with a simple _“Yerim?”_ – pretending like she wasn’t going to have this be their last phone call together.

 

Yeri made memorizing each lilt of her voice (how her tone rose or lowered, to the way Joohyun’s syllables strung husky chords like a clean E minor) the one test she wanted to have perfectly scored into her memory; marred in bright seductive red of the lipstick Yeri would have Joohyun wear – applying the color against her lips with her own.

 

She spent that night listening to Joohyun’s voice, even when the older girl fell fast asleep and only the wisps of her soft breaths echoed through.

 

Yeri waited until Joohyun’s cellphone clicked their call shut, knowing her battery life would wear out eventually even when Yeri kept her own charger plugged in (wanting to listen more – hear Joohyun _more_ ).

 

It was time.

 

-

 

Yeri didn’t know how to make it hurt less.

 

She wanted to give Joohyun a clear slate – make it transparent that they wouldn’t work out; that they couldn’t work out anymore. Yeri had it worded well enough in her head, but the syllables didn’t want to come out.

 

Especially not when Joohyun was standing right in front of her, smiling down at her and waiting for her response to her simple question.

 

“Where are you going?” Joohyun had asked, curiosity coloring her eyes but ignorance blinded her completely – not knowing that Yeri wasn’t planning on coming back.

 

Yeri adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, unable to look Joohyun in the eyes throughout their time together (but sometimes they were unavoidable – especially when she wanted her lips) – having been busy imprinting the feel of Joohyun’s soft ebony tresses between her fingers, syncing the memory into her skin when she had Joohyun rest her head on her lap just moments before.

 

She wanted to keep every bit of Joohyun: from her fiery touches to her gentle kisses, wanting Joohyun’s warmth to cradle her forever (Yeri left for Joohyun’s apartment the next day, wanting to feel _everything_ ).

 

But it didn’t feel enough – she didn’t kiss her enough, feel her enough, _love her enough._

 

“I’ll be right back,” the lie spilled between reluctant teeth, “Could you wait for me?”

 

Stupid. So, _so,_ stupid.

 

Joohyun smiled, “I will,” she said like it was a vow and Yeri wished she was brave enough to tell her the truth.

 

But she wasn’t.

 

So Yeri took to walking away, bidding Joohyun one goodbye and avoided her eyes because she knew Joohyun would still look at her with a promise of an ‘I love you’.

 

Yeri never went back.

 

-

 

Sometimes, during moments where Yeri would be sitting in her room, flitting through her contact list and spotting Joohyun’s name still there (along with three hearts and a smiley face), Yeri wondered how she was doing.

 

If Joohyun was okay, with no one hurting her anymore and no bruises to scar her skin, then Yeri figured she would be okay too. Eventually.

 

_“I want you to break this silly phase of yours off. Lesbians are not tolerated in my household.” Her father had rolled up his newspaper then, curling it under his arm as he stood to put his cup away into the sink that same night he told her to end everything._

_Yeri had nodded, pretending it didn’t hurt to breathe._

_“Then can I switch schools? So she can’t find me,” she whispered out, her mind already whirring away with ghost touches of Joohyun’s lips._

_“That’s fine. I won’t mention you to her, either.”_

_It was cruel._

_But Yeri was already cut mute the second her father knew they were more than just two girls being friends (how he had figured it out, Yeri didn’t ask – it didn’t matter anymore)._

_“… Fine.”_

There were times when the seasons flitted by and snow crunched beneath her black boots (or those of dead orange leaves), when Yeri would spot Joohyun walking around the neighborhood.

 

She looked okay (she no longer limped; her wrist looking to be just as good as new).

 

She seemed to have changed a bit too, with the cup of coffee she always appeared to have glued in her hand (since when did she start drinking what she hated?).

 

Joohyun’s hair still remained the familiar shade of black onyx, shimmering against falling white snow, and Yeri had instances where she had to resist the feral urge to just go to her and flutter her fingers against such silk.

 

Yeri never would, settling to disappear around a corner, making sure their paths didn’t cross. It was fine to be like this – pretending like she didn’t just see her heart several steps away.

 

Joohyun was okay; that was all that mattered.

 

That was good.

 

But even when a year already passed by and new stores were opening up – especially that one filled with children building teddy bears, a giant mascot loitering by the entrance, Yeri was still waiting for her turn – waiting for the time where she could say she was okay too.

 

She kept waiting.

 

-

 

Yeri wasn’t prepared to see Joohyun up close, wearing a long sleeved burgundy turtleneck, her hair gracing over the slopes of her shoulders at a 4-membered table with her close friend Joy.

 

 _“… Irene unnie…?”_ Yeri had tried not to show she was trembling, faking a smile as soon as the sight settled into her head that, _Yes, it’s unnie – it’s really unnie._

 

She remembered the giant mentioning something about a ‘group date’, and at first Yeri had congratulated her – patting her on the back at the chance she finally had with her monolid crush.

 

 _“… Yerim,”_ Yeri hated how Joohyun’s voice still strung strings in her chest; lifting up bandages she had poorly wrapped herself in with memories as healing keepsakes.

 

She was still happy for Joy.

 

But as she scribbled down their orders, writing down ‘3 chickens’ knowing well enough that Joohyun didn’t need one, Yeri didn’t feel as happy anymore; taking note of the stranger seated beside her, looking at Joohyun like she mattered more than anyone else in the room.

 

Yeri knew that look. She _had_ that look for Joohyun, too (she _still_ does – she’s still waiting for that moment where she could say she’s _okay_ ).

 

 _“I’ll be back with your orders soon,”_ she had hurried off, pretending she wasn’t running away and locked herself in the staff room, her fist clenching against the poor paper that still had their orders.

 

Yeri wasn’t sure what she was going to say (she knew Joohyun would be looking for an explanation – and she deserved one); she never prepared some grand speech to provide her a reason as to why they didn’t work out. She thought she wouldn’t bump into her again, but there were certainly pros and cons when working at a public restaurant.

 

It was only when she had given them their meals, watched the clock tick by in the staff room, and peeked out of the kitchen door to see Joohyun and her… _partner_ (were they together?) still lingering in the restaurant – Joy having already left with her monolid date, that Yeri knew she couldn’t run anymore.

 

So Yeri didn’t.

 

-

 

She didn't want to be brave if it meant putting Joohyun through ridicule and shame.

 

But maybe that was bravery in itself too. Or so Yeri tried to convince herself.

 

Joohyun’s driving her home again after their impromptu talk earlier in the afternoon (Yeri replaced Joy who scurried away, _“Heading to work now, so see you two later,”_ ). Yeri didn’t want this to become routine – she didn’t want to get used to having Joohyun in her life again.

 

She was just getting used to having it _without_ her.

 

“You have your hair tied up again,” Yeri mutters beneath her breath, attempting to wash away the memories still clouding her head with the snow trickling along a navy sky.

 

Joohyun’s sheepish stutters tug at her chest painfully.

 

“Oh, I just – I just felt like it, today. I don’t… I don’t usually tie it anymore.”

 

Yeri wants to ask why but she sort of knows the answer already (she’s not there to brush her fingers through them).

 

They keep mute after under the hum of Joohyun’s car, listening to the tires bumping against a rocky road, until Joohyun pulls up by the curb of her house.

 

She attempts to get out quickly, already closing the door behind her and was about to unlatch the gate when Joohyun’s call reminds her of phantom memories.

 

“I still haven’t climbed out of a well, yet.”

 

Yeri knows the silly reference – remembers the rain and how she kept whacking Joohyun with her bag until she finally realized it wasn’t the Grudge – and that Joohyun had mistaken her fear for a different character instead.

 

She tries not to let her tears reach her voice.

 

“It was the Grudge that I was scared of,” Yeri says quietly, laughing wryly as she turns around just to see Joohyun’s already making her steps towards her.

 

“… I know,” Joohyun’s murmur is faint against the snow squishing beneath her boots, “You’re still using the same shade of red, aren’t you?” She asks quietly, her gaze flitting to her lips.

 

“… Yes,” Yeri quips gently, meekly, not knowing where this was going.

 

Her breath hitches at Joohyun’s proximity, her eyes as clear as break of day – her hair still blaringly tied up into a ponytail and Yeri’s reminded that she could just unlatch it and run her fingers through them again.

 

“Why…?” Joohyun’s whisper is hot against her lips, as if pleading, Yeri’s knees growing weak at every fleeting touch of her heat.

 

Yeri struggles to resist the urge to loop her arms around Joohyun’s shoulders, to untangle black tresses tied between a circle string – it’s hard.

 

_Because I still love you._

 

She doesn’t know what Joohyun’s doing – doesn’t know why she’s bringing up their past like they could go through it all together again. Yeri won’t let it, not when she knows Joohyun still works with _him;_ knows that he could still hurt her.

 

Yeri won’t let him.

 

Her hands press against Joohyun’s shoulders, gently pushing her back so they’re not breathing the same air again (he might be home – Yeri doesn’t want this to last longer than necessary).

 

“It’s cold out, unnie.” Yeri says instead, steels the nerves trembling against her fingers. “Just let me go.”

 

She shrugs off the hurt she sees in pools of auburn, spinning back to unclasp the lock on the gate, pushing it open. Yeri hopes her father hasn’t seen them.

 

Her steps falter at the grip around her skin.

 

“You don’t get to leave again,” Joohyun mutters quietly, her warmth circling Yeri’s wrist, chastising. “Not without my goodbye.”

 

Joohyun had no walls when it came to Yerim.

 

Yeri should feel honored, but not when Joohyun sounds so broken, so tired, so open – so _not_ okay (she had read her wrong – _so wrong_ ).

 

She waits for her goodbye.

 

"Call me," Yeri looks up, blinking away memory hazes of sweet kisses under the summer rain at Joohyun's voice. "Whenever you need me. Whenever you're thinking of me – and even when you're not.” The familiarity of Joohyun’s words trigger waves of her pounding heart beating against her ribcage. “Whenever you're scared, or feel alone, or happy, or bored, or angry. Even when you just want someone to listen or when you just want to hear my voice – call me."

 

Yeri finds it amazing how Joohyun manages to make what was once her _“Hello,”_ become her _“Goodbye,”_

 

She still hates how it’s such a Joohyun thing to do, beating around the bush (but Yeri knew they both weren’t the type to say how they felt out loud).

 

"Okay," Yeri responds simply, playing by the book of pretending Joohyun did not just say she still loves her (even with a farewell, Joohyun’s still making promises to her).

 

They share one more smile – recognizes Joohyun's signature small curve of her lips, the vows still written in her eyes, before Yeri turns around; have her back be the last thing Joohyun sees of her. _Again._

 

This time it feels final.

 

Like their storybook has finally come to an end (she never wanted it to end though, never), as she closes the gate, waves her farewell as Joohyun disappears into her car.

 

Feeling courage combust against her chest (Yeri doesn’t know what she’s doing – _why_ she’s doing it; just that she _needs_ to), Yeri yanks her mobile out of her pocket, taps Joohyun’s name still listed on her speed dial, and listens to it ring as Joohyun’s car pulls out onto the streets.

 

Joohyun’s raspy voice still soothes the pounding tremor in her heart, easing the tension in her fingers as she cradles it close to her ear.

 

_“Yerim?”_

Yeri doesn’t want Joohyun to crash – she shouldn’t even have answered the phone considering it was illegal. And why was she even blaming the older girl when _she_ was the one who called in the first place? _I’m such a mess,_

She still has Joohyun’s voice memorized.

 

“I was just checking to see if I still had the right number,” Yeri quips, masking the lie with ease of an impromptu script.

 

Joohyun laughs and somehow, somewhere during her attempt to tell the older girl that there was nothing more to be said than that (Joohyun kept insisting there was), Yeri convinces her to leave the phone on, have it on speaker as she drives ( _“So you don’t crash, unnie.” “Okay, okay.”_ ).

 

Yeri settles her back against her house’s metal railing, using this familiar moment of listening to Joohyun’s voice through her phone to etch each husky lilt of her tone deeper into her storybook memory – she didn’t want it to fade completely (because it almost did).

 

She’s the one who clicks her phone shut this time, once Joohyun tells her she’s made it home – hears Joohyun’s reluctant _“Goodbye,”_ and returning it with her own, a smile curling against shaky red lips, tears finally spilling to draw against her cheeks (which Yeri knows Joohyun can’t see – she’s grateful for that).

 

Yeri didn’t want Joohyun to leave without hearing her goodbye ( _actually_ hearing it – not Joohyun’s silly romantic roundabout version with _“Call me,”_ – _that oldie_ …).

 

She recalls her conversation with her father the first time she had been driven home by Joohyun since a year ago, faintly remembering how Wendy had been confused at her rejection for the passenger seat (Yeri just didn’t want to have everything feel like it was _normal_ again – because it wasn’t).

 

_“Was that Joohyun?” Yeri had pretended not to look startled as she peeled off her boots, looking at anywhere else but him._

_“… Of course not,”_

_He had hummed his approval, patting her back._

_“Good. Wouldn’t want to add in ‘misconduct’ when I’m writing her weekly evaluation now, would we?”_

_She nodded weakly, allowing her muted steps to lead her to her room._

 

Yeri cries, letting her knees hit the snowy cushion and chokes out everything she has bottled up in the past year since she’s been waiting to feel ‘okay’ again, her spontaneous courage already long dried.

 

Her lungs burn; so does her throat, her eyes, her chest; but it feels good to let it all out – it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

 

 _Unnie will be okay, I’ll be okay – we’ll both be okay,_ Yeri thinks – _hopes._

They’ll be okay.

 

-

 

Irene walks in to a seemingly chirpy Seungwan and a stiff Seulgi, momentarily forgetting that she had just broken up with Yerim (but weren’t they already long gone a year ago?) – her cellphone clicking shut.

 

“J-Joohyun, welcome back!” Seungwan says, bouncing towards her as Irene closed the door behind her.

 

Everything went by relatively quickly, letting Seungwan know of her day as she hangs her jacket on the rack. ( _“Joy took back her vortex comment,” “Is that a good thing?” “She said it was too much of a compliment.” “Oh.”_ )

 

Nodding gently as Seungwan pointed towards a takeout meant just for her, Irene keeps Seulgi within her peripheral; watches her stand from the couch – oddly quiet, her lips drawn into a straight line.

 

Flurries of words exchange between the two friends – the air crackling with a tension Irene was slightly familiar with, standing aside as Seulgi reached for the doorknob, motioning to leave.

 

_“What happened to lesson 1?”_

_“It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore.”_

Irene feels lost, nodding silently as Seulgi passes her a tiny smile, her _“See you,”_ so quiet she wonders if she misheard _–_ it doesn’t help when the door clicks shut and Seungwan looks like she wants to cry.

 

She contemplates on whether she should follow Seulgi out and scold her for whatever this is (ponders why it looks like she just walked in to a love story that didn’t have a happy ending), or stay close to Seungwan even when she looks like she doesn’t want her company.

 

“Sorry – um, you should eat.” Seungwan mutters, wiping her sleeves against her eyes, drying loose tears. “I’ll just… I’m heading to bed.”

 

Irene watches her carefully, making up her mind – knowing now that she should stay (she carries memories of Yerim just moments before into a safe haven in the corner of her mind, storing it away for later).

 

Seungwan is priority.

 

“Okay,” Irene murmurs gently, trailing behind Seungwan instead of looking for food because Seungwan doesn’t look steady on her feet.

 

She attempts to reach for her elbow, her fingertips brushing soft cotton until it’s shoved away, Seungwan’s arm lashing out that it startles Irene.

 

“Don’t.” Seungwan’s voice carries winter like it has frozen over her throat, “… Don’t, it’s – I’m fine.”

 

Irene pretends her fingers don’t hurt from Seungwan’s instinctive reaction to her touch, her stubbornness running the gears through her limbs, refusing to step away because Seungwan’s lying to her with such a cliché _“I’m fine.”_

 

She doesn’t really listen to Seungwan’s plead, keeping close, her hand reaching out to hover just behind Seungwan’s back – complying with her request halfway by maintaining a gap between her palm and Seungwan’s sweater.

 

“… I’m not going to play that song for you.” Seungwan’s words impale a delicate chord somewhere along the ridges in Irene’s chest, pooling confusion and hurt at the memory of Seungwan having been happy at the idea to show her, before.

 

_“Will you play it again for me when we’re both home tonight?”_

_Irene flushed at Seungwan’s quick kiss._

_“Of course!” Seungwan chirped, before her face began to burn a similar shade of red._

 

“Okay,” Irene says again, wondering if that’s all she could say – couldn’t she give more than just one word?

 

When Irene sees her roommate’s shoulders begin to quake, Seungwan’s steps pausing just in the middle of the living room, Irene’s glad she’s close enough to catch her drop to her knees, her sobs wracking her tiny form.

 

Irene’s nose settles into the back of Seungwan’s head, her roommate’s long chestnut hair tickling against her collarbone (she recognizes the peach shampoo – the same sweet aroma as her own because Seungwan had asked her if they could share it; that it smelled really nice and made her hair softer) her grip firm around Seungwan’s stomach.

 

Seungwan spinning around so her arms looped around Irene’s shoulders surprised her, having expected to be hit again – having instinctively closed her eyes before peeking to see Seungwan wasn’t going to, her lips warm against Irene’s neck. She readjusts her hold so her fingers clasp around Seungwan’s back instead.

 

Irene doesn’t understand what went wrong (what had happened between Seulgi and her roommate) but as she cradles Seungwan close, holds her head against her shoulder, lets Seungwan’s tears seep through her sweater and into her skin – Irene doesn’t need to.

 

Seungwan just needs _someone._

 

It takes time for Irene to convince Seungwan to go to bed, half-carrying her into her room, plopping her gently against her blue sheets (Seungwan has yet to let go, her grip keeping firm on her shirt).

 

She lies down beside her, not wanting to leave her alone, as Seungwan huddles closer until their sweaters mesh colors of blue and maroon, clutching against cotton and polyester, her hands balling into fists at Irene’s back.

 

The silent trickle of tears don’t stop even when Irene’s raising the blanket and the taller girl’s hand is massaging gentle fingers against the back of Seungwan’s head, soft brown tresses flitting between Irene’s skin.

 

Her sobs have at least dissipated, her whimpers pressing heat against Irene’s neck. Normally Irene would have flushed at the touch, how Seungwan’s lips are caressing fragile skin, but she doesn’t because Seungwan’s sprinkles of fleeting kisses are ghost breaths of pain with tears as her only way of coping.

 

“… I-I wish I could remember,” Seungwan’s whisper tickles her neck, Irene’s ears perking up at her voice. “I – I want to say I do, but it’s… it’s all just a mess – why can’t I…” She hiccups, curling into Irene. “… Why can’t I just be ‘Wendy’ and not ‘Seungwan’ instead…?”

 

Irene doesn’t interrupt, keeping mute as Seungwan’s breaths steady to a simpler rhythm moments later, as if her croaked out secret had helped heal a personal turmoil – slumber finally easing the tension away from Seungwan’s crunched expression.

 

She brushes off the streaks left behind against her roommate’s cheeks before curving her arms tighter around her, tucking Seungwan’s head beneath her chin.

 

Irene still doesn’t know what happened – just that something did; somewhere between Seungwan’s happy kiss to her cheek from mentioning a song to Seulgi’s slumped shoulders like the world crashed upon them.

 

Massaging slim fingers against Seungwan’s hair, Irene hopes Seungwan will at least get to dream of things that don’t scare her, shutting her eyes – wanting to wake up to a Seungwan who doesn’t scare _her_.

 

Irene sleeps to the smell of warm peach and wonders how Seungwan could wish to be only half of herself.

 

_“People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’, so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead.”_

If Seungwan wanted to be Wendy, then what about _her?_

 

_“I don’t mind the sound of Seungwan.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … I truthfully didn’t expect Yerene’s story to be as lengthy as it was; but as a result, the fluff I promised to a select few has been pushed to the next chapter (and for that I’m very very sorry). I wanted to include the fluff in this same update, but it would have made the entire chapter look like it didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. In other words, this chapter would’ve looked like it was PMSing. 
> 
> The amount of content written in this chapter is also rather heavy so I didn’t want readers to feel overwhelmed and miss important details sprinkled about in this update. 
> 
> On another note, I was truly (still am) very surprised at the responses for last chapter; I have heard all of your heartfelt, pain-filled, battle cries – whether it be within the comments below or over on twitter (I noticed you too, dear YouTube commenter; I like listening back to Seuldy’s ‘Realize’ too). You have probably seen me around liking and/or re-tweeting (if I managed to find you) and that is to show you of my appreciation. 
> 
> Thank you. I tried to be as in depth and detailed as possible in my replies to your comments below as well to show that I truly do appreciate everything. 
> 
> … I don’t normally reveal how I feel emotionally but I will say this: if you readers have cried over this – and even if you didn’t, just know that I cried hearing all of you too. You don’t know how much this all means to me. 
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update – until next time.


	8. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene wakes up holding fragile beauty between her arms, Seungwan's breaths ghosting rose colors against her neck.

Irene wakes up holding fragile beauty between her arms, Seungwan's breaths ghosting rose colors against her neck.

 

Her eyes struggle to open, squinting because of the window barring only half of the dusty orange-yellow streaks flitting between the blinds. Her hand reaches up to rub at her eyelids, groaning at the foggy haze in her head and the claws of sleep still hanging on to her limbs.

 

Irene wiggles the fingers attached to her other arm, buried snugly beneath Seungwan's head, her temple warm against Irene's skin.

 

She remembers having combed through Seungwan's hair, as if to ease the crinkles of pain off the edges of her brows even when the shorter girl had already fallen asleep.

 

Irene attempts to stretch out the kinks, remove the numbing tremor along her limb, before fitting her fingers through soft brown tresses again.

 

She vaguely wonders why she's even bothering (it wasn't like Seungwan was hurting again – she looked like peace), but Irene thinks it's okay; sometimes it's nice to wake up to someone running their fingers through her hair (it certainly was, with Yerim).

 

Irene stares at the way Seungwan breathes, watches how her lips are no longer pressed into a jutted line, crossed with a chain attempting to keep in clawing sobs just the night before.

 

She brushes Seungwan's fringe so it doesn't draw curtains over her eyes, curling brown strands behind a small ear with her free hand. Irene sees how the locks are longer, loose tresses spilling past the bridge of Seungwan's nose.

 

Irene wonders how Seungwan could look like she came out of a portrait beneath the pool of sunny yellow, how it colors her gold between the tiny gaps of the bedroom's window. The image makes Irene think of summer even when she knows there's still snow sticking to stay for one more month.

 

Irene's hand flinches away, yanking back as if scorched by Seungwan's movement. She suddenly doesn't know where to put her free hand (her other safely playing the part of a pillow, though now she has stopped flitting her fingers through brown locks), keenly aware it had been wrapped around her roommate's hips the night before.

 

Irene can feel the pink rise to settle heat just below her eyes at the memory.

 

"... Hyun?" Seungwan mumbles, rubbing the sleep away, her hair tousling against Irene's arm.

 

Irene's hand settles on her side, not willing to let it feel any inch of Seungwan's body. It felt normal to touch her when she had been crying; felt that it was okay to hold her close, remind her that she was there for her – but now that there were no tears painting her face, there was no need for more intimacy (more because here they were, seemingly comfortable waking up in bed together).

 

"Good morning," the words bleed easy between Irene's teeth, a stark contrast to how her eyes find it hard to look away from Seungwan's sleepy smile.

 

Seungwan's drowsy _"'Morning,"_ in return makes Irene wonder when she stopped looking at the way the sunlight draped topaz beauty across Seungwan's face and just started staring at the way strands of brown spilled over her brows – the curled locks Irene had clasped behind her ear setting free from Seungwan's attempts at clearing away the slumber haze.

 

Irene pretends she didn't just swallow a ball of nervous confusion (she shouldn't be like this – but it doesn't help when Seungwan's looking innocently serene that it coils suffocating cotton around her throat), ignoring the pink coloring the rim of her neck.

 

Seungwan's not bothering to release her arm, looking settled by the way she presses her cheek against her sleeve, as if to adjust for more comfort. Irene tries not to show she's getting shy (how her lips begin to purse, the heat flaring pools beneath her eyes); she should be used to it by now, considering she hasn't slept in her own room since that night Seungwan asked to be held for warmth.

 

Most times she's okay, not so flaringly flustered (Irene's so used to being meek that she's mastered looking deceptively indifferent instead), but during moments where gold tanned skin shimmers a portrait to life in the image of brown eyes attempting to hide behind long fringes and a timid smile so reflective of her own, Irene's stuck pretending she's not bothered and hoping Seungwan doesn't notice she stares.

 

"What time is it?" Seungwan asks, rubbing at her eyes even when Irene knows that dream clouds have already long gone.

 

Sometimes Irene wonders if Seungwan notices how the air shifts around them too.

 

It takes effort to look elsewhere (there's just something about Seungwan during mornings where sleep still fogs a part of her, coloring her ethereal), noting the clock on her nightstand – _10:13 AM._

 

Seungwan merely hums when Irene tells her the time, silence slipping between the meager gap that keeps their faces apart, managing to be a culmination of awkward comfort.

 

Irene attempts to mask the troubling air with light conversation.

 

"At this rate, I might have to use my room as storage instead." She laughs gently, pretending she doesn't see the way Seungwan's cheeks flush at the implication – it makes her ears go pink, too.

 

"W-Well, if you want to..." Seungwan's stuttered whisper doesn't help ease the heat crawling along Irene's neck as the shorter girl curls her hands against her mouth; like the words weren't supposed to be out.

 

They haven't talked about their sleeping arrangement since their first night together. It hadn't seemed out of place and what was once an act of soothing comfort became habitual want (Irene admits she liked sleeping in Seungwan's room better than her own – she hadn't slept as well as she did now; maybe the window light was better here?). Their muted agreement of sharing the bed was said in the way Seungwan would make space for her and how Irene would pull the covers up to their chins.

 

Holding each other beneath blue blankets didn't seem out of the ordinary.

 

"Oh, um – maybe we'd save more money for a single bedroom instead." Irene says, as if to hush the awkward air, realizing seconds later of her mishap as Seungwan's cheeks flare fiery red that she could practically see the heat seeping off in smokes.

 

Seungwan's squeak makes Irene want to hide, "I-If you want to...?" she mutters under curtains of her fringe, her fingertips pressing nervous ticks against the edges of her lips.

 

Irene attempts to backtrack, recognizing the familiar intimate tension flickering between them.

 

"I-I was just kidding! I mean – I still need my room for – well, my clothes and school things..." Irene yelps with a barrage of reasonable excuses, her free hand pressing ebony against her face, as if strands of black could hide her embarrassment.

 

This was probably why they never talked about sleeping together.

 

Seungwan's shy smile looks too good beneath her bedroom's window light – Irene tries to get more of her onyx black to cover her eyes, too.

 

"... I know," she says simply, tapping a finger against Irene's pillow arm. Irene counts along in her head – _one, two, three_ – "But we can still keep doing this, right?"

 

Irene sometimes wondered if she was intruding Seungwan's personal space; that it was supposed to be a one time thing – that Seungwan was too passive to say 'no'.

 

But as she settles her palm beneath Seungwan's tapping finger, watching the way her thoughts count against her skin, Irene realizes she finds comfort in her company, too.

 

"There's no reason not to," Irene quips playfully, the air surrounding them playing a lighter tune to their misty friendship. "Even if we're spending more for an extra room."

 

Seungwan joins in on the joke, her eyes twinkling with mirth, soft confidence bleeding out from sunlight lips.

 

"Who knows, maybe when we've practiced long enough, we could actually upgrade to a single bedroom instead."

 

Irene coughs out oxygen from the flush clogging her throat – pressing air against her palm, her ears scorching of red heat. Seungwan attempts to dispel her blushing chokes with laughter so different from her timid smiles.

 

"You suggested it first – shouldn't I be the flustered one instead?" Seungwan chirps as she pats Irene's back with her once tapping hand. "You're so good to me..." She trails off absently, like she's still having a hard time believing it.

 

"Is that bad?" Irene croaks, her voice still muffled by her palm.

 

She's still attempting to cover the hues of pink and red coloring her skin, but it doesn't help when Seungwan's looking at her with eyes that used to be Yerim's.

 

"I told you didn't I? That I wouldn't let you go if you're going to be like this," Seungwan mutters, brushing away ebony to curl it behind Irene's ear. Irene hopes Seungwan can't feel the heat blazing along the flesh. "Isn't that bad?"

 

Irene attempts to ignore how Seungwan gradually shifts up along her pillow arm, the distance between their faces closing in. She wants to ask her why she's becoming a breath away – why she's filling up a gap that's supposed to be wedged with a friendship wall but suddenly it isn't there.

 

"Why would it be?" Irene mutters, feeling meek as Seungwan flits small fingers across her temple, brush away ebony that play as her shield.

 

"... You'd be the only noise I hear," she whispers, her voice cracking at the edges and spilling a past Irene doesn't know of. "What does it mean if I don't want to count thoughts of you away?"

 

Irene's not sure why it sounds so much like a confession when Seungwan looks like she wants to cry instead.

 

Seungwan’s fingers flit over the arches of her brow to the bridge of her nose, like she's painting a language Irene doesn't understand, confused of the air draping over them akin to the intimacy of mutual lovers.

 

Irene feels the words coil in her throat, oxygen pausing just behind her closed teeth, as Seungwan draws a gentle thumb over the edge of her bottom lip, her touch feather light.

 

She wonders if Seungwan knows what she's doing (especially what she's doing to her), keeping hush under the silent melody of Seungwan's fingertips singing caresses across her cheek to her jaw.

 

"Making the noises go away lets me say I'm okay. But what if it means someone else has to say they're not?"

 

Irene attempts to read Seungwan's storybook journal behind a pair of broken brown. Her question sounds more like a plea, a desperate cry for a solution to a problem Irene doesn't understand.

 

"What if I count her away but not you?" Irene feels her heart stutter at her whisper, watching as Seungwan's free hand resting between their lips slithers to grab hold of her maroon sweater, her fingers brushing warmth through the material and onto her stomach. "...What would that mean?"

 

Irene can feel Seungwan's finger tap against her skin, her sweater a poor barrier against turmoil heat.

 

_One, two, three._

 

"N-Nevermind, forget I said anything." Seungwan squeaks, taking back her momentary lapse of judgment like it was a mistake, wrenching her confidence along with it.

 

Irene wants to ask – pursue further because she can tell someone's name is dancing along the curves of Seungwan's lips from the way she bites on it like it'll help stall the words, as if she's afraid of saying it.

 

She wonders if it's Seulgi.

 

_"It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore."_

 

"Okay," Irene says instead, taking note of the desperation lining along brown eyes.

 

The silence creeps in as Seungwan retracts her hand from her jawline, curling fingers against maroon right next to her tapping hand, feeling Seungwan's warmth swirl against Irene's stomach. It's automatic when Irene pulls her in, her fingers pressing protection against the small of Seungwan's back as Seungwan curls into her – like she's both hiding away and embarrassed for the slivers of her diary words that spilled between her teeth.

 

Irene still doesn't know what happened, but she's grateful to hear parts of Seungwan's puzzle heart. She was still missing pieces of a story to understand, but as she settles her chin against the crown of Seungwan's head, Irene knows she will eventually.

 

She can wait.

 

“Is that a giant teddy bear?” Irene mutters curiously against auburn hair, spotting a dusty white head of a stuffed animal littered between Seungwan’s hairdresser and the corner wall.

 

She sees it hiding beneath a pile of cardboard boxes – like it was stored away along with everything else that was left to gather specks of dirty white from the ticks of time.

 

Seungwan’s voice tickles the crook of her neck, “… Mhm,”

 

“You don’t like it?” Irene probes gently, not realizing she’s already massaging her fingers along the back of Seungwan’s head until she hears Seungwan’s satisfied hum. “It looks cute,” she finishes, eyeing the bear because it’s her distraction away from Seungwan (her hand is moving on it’s own – what is she doing?).

 

Her roommate rubs her nose against Irene’s skin, as if to find her comfort zone. Irene tries not to shiver under her feather touches, her swallow instinctive from Seungwan’s warm breath.

 

“It does, doesn’t it…?” Seungwan murmurs, her muffled voice tickling sensitive skin.

 

Irene waits to hear more, anticipating the story behind a dusty worn out teddy bear that looked like it wanted a hug (she pretends that she isn’t ticklish by her breathing). But as she watches the clock on Seungwan’s nightstand tick minutes by, Irene gathers the courage to peek at her roommate’s face.

 

She shifts back, bending her head to see closed eyes behind long brown fringes, her breaths steadied to a slumber. Seungwan must’ve still been tired. _Of course._ Irene thinks, _She cried, after all._

 

Irene can’t help the smile cracking against the corners of her lips as she pulls the covers up, making sure Seungwan’s snuggled comfortably before allowing the curtains to draw over her eyes.

 

Irene lets her rest.

 

-

 

She pretended to fall asleep.

 

Wendy never noticed how Joohyun had butterflies for eyelids.

 

She makes sure to keep quiet, carefully slipping out of Joohyun’s guardian embrace, taking note how her warmth lingers along her skin even when she’s already out of bed and tucking her blanket up to Joohyun’s chin.

 

Her fingers have memorized the heat of Joohyun’s cheeks, the fuzzy softness of her brows, to the plump pink of her lips. Wendy remembers having drawn her muted diary heart along the contours of Joohyun’s face.

 

She hadn’t meant to be so emotionally open, but maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to think about the noises – wasn’t ready to think about _her,_ that Wendy wanted to distract herself by etching Joohyun’s skin along her own; mar her heat to scorch her permanently.

 

Wendy wanted Joohyun tattooed against her skin because Seulgi was already in her head.

 

She just didn’t remember it; _still doesn’t._ Not completely.

 

She curls loose strands over Joohyun’s ear again, smiling at the gentle heat and the fading hue of red still coloring its edges.

 

Wendy knew that Joohyun had been flustered – she was shy herself, but specks of courage filtered through and lined her limbs and words. She was grateful for the tiny boost of confidence again; it helped her tell more – give pieces of what made her scared (Joohyun hadn’t run away despite her broken explanations; it was relieving).

 

Her lips make their way to Joohyun’s soft cheek, pressing warmth against her skin, wanting to return the gentle comfort her roommate had given – _and continues,_ to give her.

 

Wendy pulls back, her eyes automatically roaming to the forgotten teddy bear stashed away in the corner of her room, drawing blanks in her mind of how she had gotten it, where she had gotten it, and when. But despite seeing mere fog for the image of old, dusty yellow-white fur and a torn blue dress, Wendy knows it’s important.

 

She whips her gaze away when the beginning echoes of flashing pictures come to mind – afraid of how it makes the noises go so much _louder._

 

_It’s so, so loud._

_“Why look down on yourself when you could look up?”_

Why was that in her voice? When did she say that?

Tick. Tick. Tick – _three,_

 

Her finger sings hasty notes on her watch, the familiar sound of ticking glass washing relief over the memory clouds in her head. Wendy bites her lip of the clawing image crawling behind her eyes, shutting them close. They don’t make sense _– nothing makes sense._

Just think of Joohyun.

 

Wendy covers the bear with a box, shifting the cardboard fortress so she can’t see anything – _can’t hear anything._ It barely staves off the stormy memory frames that come back, rushing out of her room so she could play with the lock of the apartment door instead, hoping that it helps her _heal_.

 

Click. Click. Click – _twelve,_

She doesn’t leave the door until she makes it to 43, resorting to the sound of her wristwatch once she musters up the courage to let go of the lock. Wendy maintains the constant rhythm of her tapping, not willing to lose the momentum of erasing pain in her mind’s eye.

 

Just think of Joohyun.

 

_"Oh, um – maybe we'd save more money for a single bedroom instead."_

The smile comes instinctively, curving along her lips like a smooth brush. She’d like that, someday.

 

… She wants it, one day.

 

Once the noises become just about her; sweet, quiet, playful Joohyun – _“Don’t apologize for being my priority”_ Joohyun, Wendy goes to prepare brunch.

 

But her hands reach for her cellphone lying precariously near Joohyun’s cold take-out instead, fingers dialing a number she’s so used to calling – so used to hearing the clicks of a familiar button sequence. Wendy doesn’t know what she’s doing, just that she _is._

 

_“Wen-Wen?”_

Seulgi.

 

Wendy’s lips freeze up at her voice, unwilling to move from their icy nerves, her breath catching tangled strings of words clogged in her throat (did she even know what to say?).

 

_“Wen?”_

She wants to speak up, let her know she hears her – that she’s _listening._ But her voice doesn’t want to come out, scratching desperately against the walls of fear lining her lips. She’s afraid.

 

_“…Wendy?”_

That’s right. Seulgi’s looking for Wendy – _not Seungwan._ She’s terrified of the fact that she isn’t who Seulgi’s been waiting for – been _wishing_ for. Things would be easier if she was just Wendy. _Why couldn’t she have just been Wendy?_

_“Maybe a mistake…?”_ She hears Seulgi mutter to herself and Wendy wants to correct it – tell her no, _never._

It’s only when she hears the long drawl of a beep and not her lost voice that lets her know Seulgi had hung up. Wendy listens to the sound for a little longer, letting it sink in and cradle her ears so she knows that it could’ve still been Seulgi’s voice if she had just said something. _Anything._

 

Wendy wants to call her again, hear how Seulgi doesn’t seem hurt – as if last night never happened, like she hadn’t just broken a happy heart. But was Seulgi really happy throughout all the times she was – _still is,_ Seungwan?

 

She doesn’t want to think more than that, clicking away on her phone before listening to the rings again. Wendy could feel the ball of words begin to rise back up in her throat, fear of rejection coiling around her lips like tattooed poison.

 

 _“Wen?”_ Seulgi’s curious call of her name only tightens the strings of jumbled syllables attempting to spill between her teeth.

 

Wendy tries to talk, swallowing terror so it could lay dormant just for a little longer.

 

“Seul…?” She murmurs into the receiver, hands gripping the phone between paling fists.

 

 _“Hey Wen-Wen, what’s up?”_ Seulgi quips back playfully, like last night didn’t open up closed locks behind an emotional heart – like they didn’t sing a song that had foggy memories sewn between the lines of each lyric together.

 

How could she miss the faint sad lilt under the edges of her voice when it sounded like it has always been there?

 

_Stupid._

 

Wendy doesn’t like how it feels to know Seulgi’s pretending. She wonders if she’s been playing pretend the whole time they’ve known each other – as far as Wendy could remember, at least.

 

“… Why didn’t you tell me?” Wendy mutters, a mixture of understanding frustration and innocent desperation lacing weak lips, the tremor along her mouth vocalizing her confusion of noisy thoughts.

 

 _“That I love you?”_ Seulgi’s simple answer cradles the essential core of every noise she’s ever heard, _“… I tell you whenever I get the chance to, remember?”_ She laughs lightly, like her voice isn’t crying of being forgotten and Wendy can feel that twisting pain of guilt even _more._

She remembers.

Wendy remembers strumming strings, hearing Seulgi’s spontaneous love confessions popping out of the blue along with sound excuses – _“Can’t I show my appreciation?”_ and returning them simply because it _is_ kind to appreciate.

 

… She remembers.

 

But then sometimes, misty images plague her mind, pictures of sitting in pairs of seats (was she on a plane?) and having Seulgi’s head resting against her shoulder being one of the many movie reels she’s seen behind curtained eyes. Wendy could hear her own voice in her ears, like a distant cloud – _“So you won’t go anywhere and I can continue singing, okay?”_

– Stop.

 

Wendy attempts to ignore how her ears begin to ring, shutting her eyes so the noises hurt less. Her finger immediately begins its ritual tapping against her wristwatch, pressing her phone harder against her ear.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _three,_

 

“Even now?” She asks like she’s breathless, pretending she doesn’t see the way Seulgi intertwines their fingers behind hazy memories (but how does she know it’s not just a mere figment of her imagination?).

 

Wendy doesn’t know why she’s even asking. It feels like she’s daring Seulgi to be honest, and maybe that’s the point – she can’t keep pretending forever; it must be tiring.

 

 _“… I love you,”_ Seulgi says, her words laced with a truth so overbearing it weighs against Wendy even when she’s heard it more times than she could count. _“That won’t change over night.”_

“But something did,” Wendy quips gently, listening to the way Seulgi’s breath hitches, attempting to ignore how she can hear the song – _her_ song under cloudy pictures of Seulgi (as if it was meant for _her_ ). “ _We_ did. … Didn't we?" _You kissed me._

 

Wendy still can’t wrap it around her head – can’t fathom how a melody she’s always heard between each beat of her heart at every sight of Joohyun was for Seulgi instead. It tears at her, like her ribcage is breaking open, her lungs squeezing life out between her lips at the mere thought of mistaking a love letter meant for someone else.

 

But was it really a mistake when Joohyun is all her heart could still sing about?

 

 _“Nothing has to change,"_ Seulgi’s voice sounds like it’s being carried by a teetering foundation, how the ends of her tone slips bits of a decaying mask. _“Don’t worry about it so much, Wen-Wen!”_ She reassures her – an attempt to change the topic, her chirp so bright that Wendy would’ve been convinced had it not been for the way Seulgi’s tone carries a song of a broken heart.

 

Seulgi’s always been the stronger one – the happier one.

 

Things would’ve been so much simpler if she could just be the girl Seulgi’s still waiting for.

 

_Why can’t I just be Wendy…?_

 

“But…” Wendy wants to reach out, help Seulgi heal, meld away the cracks in her voice – wipe away the silent tears she could hear trickling sad paintings along her face.

 

 _“Hey, you know what’ll help you and your cute little worried heart?”_ Seulgi probes on playfully, like she’s not breaking at the seams. _“Come visit me. I’ll give you a discount on the cutest bears ever! You won’t regret it!”_

Wendy remembers the yellowish-white blue dressed teddy bear hiding away under a pile of boxes in her room.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _twenty-seven,_

“Aren’t they all cute, though?” Wendy giggles softly, keenly aware of how Seulgi still manages to make everything appear seamlessly better.

 

 _“… Then it’s a discount on everything!”_ Seulgi laughs, sounding so much more like the Seulgi, Wendy was familiar with. _“You’re one lucky customer, miss.”_ She says, clucking her tongue as if to chide her.

 

“And I’m lucky to have you,” the words spill from her lips faster than the images that are still flashing in her head.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _thirty-three,_

 

Seulgi’s familiar bright guffaw melts the fear from her throat, but it comes crawling back in when she speaks again, hearing how Seulgi’s heart’s on her lips.

 

 _“Keep that up and I might just melt in my bear suit,”_ she jokes, making a point with her ‘ _tsk’_ adding flavor to her effortless pretend.

Seulgi plays happiness like it’s the strings of a guitar – singing strength as if it were notes; pitched to perfection.

 

Wendy pretends she doesn’t notice it bleeding out into her ears, potently loud.

 

“I’ll see you later then?” Wendy asks once she’s done playing her part of the clueless close friend, knowing Seulgi’s trying so hard to keep things exactly the way they are.

 

Wendy doesn’t know why she’s anticipating Seulgi’s signature _“It’s a date then,”_ when they both know now how much one of them wishes it to be true.

 

 _“Yeah. Later, Wen-Wen!”_ Seulgi continues on with her seemingly gleeful chirp, a harsh contrast to how Wendy could practically hear her crack under glass emotions.

 

When she hears the click and the familiar drawl of a beep, Wendy snaps her phone shut. Her hand is still settled atop her wrist, her finger unable to stop tapping away on her wristwatch.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _forty-three,_

The noises have gotten louder.

 

Before her mind even gets to register it, her steps lead her to Joohyun's room, inhaling wafts of vanilla and lavender tinged with fabric softener. Wendy doesn't know why she's intruding on Joohyun's personal privacy as she crawls onto her bed, plucking a purple pillow off the headboard to cradle between jittery arms.

 

She surrounds herself with a fortress of soft cotton fluffy squares of varying violet (it doesn't take a lot to know now that purple really is Joohyun's favorite color) before pulling up thick blankets of the same shade to huddle beneath.

 

Her finger keeps its rhythmic tapping, her eyes squeezing shut from the pounding ringing stuck in her ears. Wendy wants it all to go away – _just go away,_ and the only way she knows how to cope with it is pictures of Joohyun.

 

She considers going back to her room, snuggle beneath the covers into Joohyun's safe arms again, but the noises keep her immobile; legs rendered frozen under phantom hands of Seulgi's voice.

 

_“It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore.”_

 

Her nose buries itself against soft purple, breathing in the scent stuck to Joohyun like caramel glue, vanilla and lavender and that lingering faint smell of fabric softener she's so used to sleeping to every night.

 

The erratic stutters that tremor her heart and ears are washed away with every inhale, as if breathing for air in wisps of Joohyun. Her lungs and thoughts fill up with her, praying that Joohyun's all she'll be able to hear.

 

_“I don’t mind the sound of Seungwan.”_

 

But she still hears Seulgi.

 

_“Do you look at her with eyes like that, Wen?”_

 

Wendy attempts to block everything else but the safety scent of Joohyun cradling her in the form of purple blankets and clusters of pillows. She doesn't know what to do anymore.

 

_“Like what?”_

 

Joohyun's all she sees, all she feels, all she smells, but Seulgi's the one she can't stop hearing – the one she can still taste.

 

_“Like a love letter?”_

 

Wendy's surrounded in scent fields of vanilla and lavender, with orange permanently tattooed on her lips.

 

-

 

Irene feels like her head's been trampled by hammers; her brain mere mush – the grogginess playing with the coils in her mind.

 

Her eyes scrunch open, the blurs of bright yellow and white walls greeting her again.

 

She stretches so the kinks don’t coil between the gears in her bones, a yawn escaping her lips.

 

Irene only realizes Seungwan's not beside her when she reaches over, grabbing soft sheets of cold blue. She blearily blinks sleep fog away, a croak scratching past her throat.

 

"...Wan?"

 

When no answer comes, Irene attempts to pause the startled jump in her chest, her mind whirring back to the night before – a crying, torn, _broken,_ Seungwan – but her body moves on automated gears.

 

Irene’s already jolting up, tripping on tangled knots of blue blankets, her arms flailing for the handle, her chest beating hard against her eardrums. Fear clasps her veins like a wound up toy, squeezing hard that her hands fail for the 10th time to simply turn the knob.

 

 _Just_ open _damn it –_

 

“S-Seungwan!” Irene yells out, barraging through the door once the handle clicks open.

 

The living room is empty, and so is the kitchen. It's startlingly quiet that it causes the jitters in Irene's heart to go faster, not used to seeing Seungwan so absent.

 

Usually she'd be in the kitchen, a blue apron tied around her waist and hair up in a bun, the sweet scent of one of Seungwan's delicious meals wafting through the apartment.

 

"Seungwan?" Irene calls out again, peeking through the bathroom door, finding it just as empty.

 

She considers that maybe Seungwan went out; left to go do something for a bit, attempting to calm the rush in her chest. But when she passes by the takeout that Seungwan and Seulgi had gotten her last night, she spots Seungwan's cellphone left precariously beside the toaster.

 

Seungwan would never leave without her mobile, not when she was so acutely aware of safety being priority (Irene still remembers needing to adjust to the sound of Seungwan's habitual lock clicking before bed – that she still needed to reassure herself that it was really locked).

 

Irene knows she has one more room to check, pushing the door open to see a clustered lump lying comfortably beneath her blankets.

 

Her heart immediately calms at the sight of her purple pillows playing as a fortress surrounding Seungwan as she sleeps, the nerves in her fingers slowing to steady as she tiptoes around her messy stacks of textbooks and notebooks.

 

Irene crouches down so she's eye level with Seungwan's slumbering face, a smile cracking across her lips as Seungwan nuzzles into her favorite purple pillow.

 

"We're not quite ready for a single bedroom yet, huh." Irene mutters gently, pulling the covers up until it reaches Seungwan's cheek. "Was I too clingy, Wan?" She chuckles quietly, before standing up to let her roommate sleep some more.

 

Irene still feels relief bleeding through her skin, a sigh escaping once worried lips at finding Seungwan safely tucked beneath her blankets and not somewhere else (wandering off where Irene can't find her).

 

She considers that maybe she was a bit too worried, walking back into Seungwan's room to fold the sheets back and clean up. Irene wonders if it was odd to be startled into a panic, remembering how her fingers had stumbled on the knob, like she forgot how to turn it properly.

 

 _It was normal, wasn't it?_ Irene thinks, placing Seungwan's blue pillow near the headboard, stacking the others into a pile. _Because if I hadn't, it'd mean I didn't care. Right?_

 

The gears in her head continue to spin away, drawing glossy images over her eyes that Irene doesn't notice she's already finished making the bed until she folds the blanket for the umpteenth time; a large fluffy square no longer able to get any smaller.

 

She pats it down along with the pillows, making sure it all looks good and new (Irene's sort of embarrassed at the stark contrast to her own bedroom, now that Seungwan's currently asleep in there – she's just been preoccupied with exams).

 

Her eyes gaze over the rest of the room for anything else to clean, before remembering the picture of a worn out teddy bear and spotting only a pile of cardboard boxes left in its place. Did Seungwan put it somewhere else?

 

Irene edges towards the corner, putting back fallen items into their respective boxes (she notes picture frames – a family portrait and one with just Seulgi) until she sees a stuffed arm peeking out between the spaces of cardboard.

 

She lifts the boxes so it doesn't hide the bear away, curiosity ebbing in her head of fluffy dusty yellow-white, the toy managing to look like it had been loved too much yet not enough.

 

Her fingers caress over the broken seams along its fading blue dress, the frills at the edges torn as if ripped apart. As much as it was worn out, the stuffed toy still looked crisp enough to keep; it was just lacking proper management.

 

Irene wonders why – how Seungwan could seem to dismiss a toy to leave it uncared for, yet still hold on just enough behind boxes like it still mattered.

 

... Or maybe she was just thinking too hard.

 

She ruffles her hair, frustration leaking out between her lips at how her mind always goes further than the initial question.

 

 _It's just a stuffed animal that hasn't been washed for a long time,_ Irene thinks, bitter at herself for taking so much of her own time pondering on things that had nothing to do with her. _Maybe it's just a toy Seungwan grew out of,_ she considers then, the thought much more befitting than the previous – more _complicated_ counterpart.

 

She blanches at the stuffy dust sticking to her fingers, puffy white clear against her pale skin. This bear needs a good thorough wash.

 

Irene makes it a plan to do so when she hides the toy away, carefully placing the box over its large fluffy head. She squeezes its bear hand despite the specks of grime, smiling gently at circle beads it has for eyes.

 

"You'll be as good as new. And definitely smell better, too." Irene says playfully, laughing to herself at how she still talks to toys like they're alive; she can't really help it (she had a stuffed bunny before but she left it at her parents' house).

 

Tucking the bear carefully between boxes, Irene heads for the bathroom to wash off the dust, her mind making up plans of how to make a bear that had been loved once, be loved again.

 

-

 

Irene clucks her tongue at the email she's just received. Looks like she'll be presenting a small talk on biofuels next week – the kids will probably fall asleep again.

 

It has only been 9 minutes since she's stepped out of the apartment, Seungwan still fast asleep on her bed. Irene was craving coffee, so her body had merely motioned on its own, her arms looping through her jacket sleeves before clicking the door's lock to a close.

 

Her sigh is tired as she shoves her phone back into her pocket, her fingers bumping against smooth plastic of her cigarette box.

 

 _"I was just checking to see if I still had the right number,"_ Yerim's voice immediately cradles the image reel in her head.

 

Right. She'll need a smoke afterwards, too.

 

Her foot starts tapping along the wooden floor of the café she's so used to seeking refuge in, suddenly impatient for the bitter coffee to spill against her lips so she could taste Yerim somewhere in between (just like that darn candy). Irene takes a step forward when one customer leaves the till.

 

She never could find Yerim beneath it all, but she still couldn't stop trying.

 

"Here you go, ma'am." The cashier says, passing the customer in front, her drink, Irene's sigh of relief escaping chapped lips for finally being next to order.

 

She watches how the patron in an orange cardigan and black jeans barely grasps the cup between her fingers that Irene's hand shoots out of reflex to catch the falling drink. It fumbles between her fingers before it crashes against Irene's maroon sweater, hot heat burning into her skin and spilling waves across the floor.

 

Irene hisses at the burn, her hands falling victim to magma coffee as she shakes the heat off, flapping her sweater so the liquid doesn't tattoo more against her chest (she should've closed her jacket for added protection).

 

"I-I'm _so,_ so sorry!" Irene winces at the shrill apology as the stranger pats napkins against her burning hands. "I-I was just feeling out of it and I didn't even notice that..."

 

Irene's too busy taking napkins of her own to clear off the coffee from her sweater when the stranger calls her name; her voice oddly familiar.

 

"... Joohyun unnie?"

 

Irene looks up to see a messy bun on a face she's seen just the night before.

 

"Seulgi?"

 

She watches how the taller girl's eyes curve into crescents at her name, a grin plastering her lips as she continues to help Irene dry up.

 

"Wow unnie. At first I thought you were cool, but you're really just dorky." Irene scowls at Seulgi's giggly laugh, "Trying to save my drink only to burn yourself – that's so quirky."

 

Irene huffs, indignant. "Thanks for reminding me of just how embarrassing that was." She says, balling up all the used napkins together. "And where's my 'thank you'?"

 

Seulgi's easy smile is lighthearted, her hand patting Irene's back as if to reassure her.

 

"Hey, at least I know now that you're not 2-dimensional. It's fun to be embarrassing." Irene watches Seulgi order again, requesting two coffees. "And there they go making my 'thank you'." The taller girl says with a soft laugh.

 

Irene scoffs again but the smile cracks easy against her lips.

 

Seulgi pays for the both of them, even when Irene attempts to shove her portion of the expenses down Seulgi's jean pocket. It manages to work until they're sitting down at a table by the window and Seulgi's hands aren't both preoccupied.

 

Irene shakes her head when Seulgi slides her money back across the silver surface.

 

"Come on, unnie. It's my 'thank you', remember?"

 

Irene nods, but doesn't make a move to take back what she gave.

 

"Yeah, but we both know a 'thank you' isn't really needed when I didn't even save the drink in the first place." Irene quips back lightly, sipping her coffee carefully. Hot.

 

Seulgi draws a pout across her lips, "Then why did you ask for one?" She whines and Irene is reminded of a child – a _tall_ child.

 

Irene shrugs, a sly grin playing across her mouth.

 

"I wanted to hear it because of the effort I put in."

 

Seulgi's joyful guffaw is bright and charming, filled with childish glee that it sparks happy butterflies along Irene's stomach – treasuring the easy friendship they seem to share.

 

They talk about little things; how school is going, what classes they're taking, which restaurants had the best food, and where the best spots are to just walk around in. Seulgi mentions a park and Irene keeps note of its directions for future reference, eager to explore new sights.

 

Seulgi's ease of driving a conversation keeps Irene from remembering last night's fall out (if it were to be called that way – Irene's still not sure what happened) until Seulgi's giving her a nervous smile.

 

"Would you mind if we do this again sometime?" Her question falls on keen ears, Irene's lips still biting gently against the rim of her plastic cup. "I – um, it's just nice to have someone to talk to, and well, I don't really have anyone else except..." _Seungwan,_ is what Irene finishes for her mutely. Seulgi shakes her head as if to jog the words out of her mouth. "A-Anyways, it's only if you don't mind, unnie!"

 

Irene watches how Seulgi's finger is tapping nervously against the side of her cup. The older woman shares a small smile in return, attempting to ease the timid jitters in Seulgi's eyes – remove the sad undertone she hears in her voice.

 

"Sure," she says simply, taking out her cellphone when Seulgi asks so the younger girl could save her number in it.

 

Seulgi grins as her thumbs dab at the keys, making Irene wonder why the happy face when a cute ringtone sings from Seulgi's orange cardigan pocket.

 

"There you go, unnie." She says, passing her phone back, her lips still engraved with glee.

 

Irene glances at the contact name; 'Seulbear :)' and it makes her blanch at the smiley face.

 

"It's cute isn't it?" Seulgi says, laughing as she fiddles with her own phone, "I'll save your name as 'Coffee Unnie'. Do you want a smiley face too?"

 

"Why not just Joohyun?"

 

"That's too boring – how about 'Spilled Coffee Unnie' –"

 

"Just 'Coffee Unnie' is fine." Irene retorts quickly, Seulgi's amused giggles a sign that she's heard.

 

Irene's almost done her drink, the cold bitter taste still present across her tongue as Seulgi motions to stand.

 

"I have to get going now, so see you around unnie. It was nice talking to you – get home safely!" Seulgi waves cheerily, her grin sparkling of white as Irene returns with a simple wave, registering 'home' with the image of soft brown eyes and long auburn fringe. "And don't change the name!"

 

Irene laughs as Seulgi flails her arms for emphasis, watching the younger girl exit the café and onto snowy cement. She drinks more of cold bitter coffee until there's nothing left, pretending she didn't just think about Seungwan when Yerim was supposed to be 'home' instead.

 

Her free hand searches for the cigarette box stuffed in her pocket, finding it's mere presence a working remedy to the thoughts in her head.

 

When Yerim's no longer behind her eyes, Irene sets down the empty cup and plucks her phone off from the table.

 

She flits through her contact list, scrolling down to see 'Seulbear :)' and wonders if she should listen. It wasn't like Seulgi would ever know she changed it, anyway.

 

The thought doesn't stay for long though as she goes through the rest of the list, spotting Seungwan's and Sooyoung's written in plain default of last and first name. It seems neater that way – more organized (as opposed to her own room but textbooks didn't occupy her cellphone) until she finds Yerim's.

 

'Yerim <3'

 

Irene wonders if she should change it; whether the truth still stuck there in the form of a weird heart that had taken time getting used to because all she used to see was a less than sign and a number 3 (Yerim had been adamant to keep it when she typed it in for the older girl – said it was for variety in a bland list). Irene still remembers Yerim exclaiming that it was a heart and that she wasn't a value less than 3.

 

Irene laughs at the playful memory and knows she can't change it – _won't._

 

She stares at the clock just above the cashier's head; _11:03 AM,_ and thinks it's about time she heads home. Irene is reminded of a sleeping Seungwan curled between her pillows, huddled beneath her purple blankets; the image plagues her like a searing marker.

 

Irene scrolls back up until she finds Seungwan's name, spending several seconds on the thought going through her head and thinks _it's not so bad._ It fits; in fact, maybe even a _bit_ _too_ _fitting._

 

Irene clicks the edit option, tapping on Seungwan's name and pressing the backspace button until it's blank.

 

She types in 'Home' instead and hits save.

 

-

 

Irene’s eager to get out of her coffee stained sweater, feeling it stick against her skin as she rotates the key wedged inside the knob.

 

She didn’t smoke today, finding thoughts of Seungwan as a healthier equivalent to puffing cigarettes. At least, for now.

 

Irene expects to see Seungwan either still in the room sleeping or going about her usual routine in the kitchen, smiling at how she’s so used to seeing such a domestic image.

 

But what she sees instead is Seungwan hiding cutely behind a fortress of fluffy squares and rectangles (Irene recognizes her favorite purple pillow choking between shaky arms), seemingly paralyzed to a corner on the couch, the remote lying precariously near the TV.

 

The picture has Irene reeling in her head.

 

“… What are you doing?” Irene asks, feeling both immensely relieved that it was nothing serious (or at least, it _didn’t_ seem serious) yet completely confused as to why Seungwan looked like she wanted to run and cry at the same time.

 

Seungwan looks at her like she’s just found heaven’s door.

 

“J-Joohyun!” She squeaks, arms flailing as if to reach for her despite not motioning to leave her seat. “Just – just go get the remote, okay?”

 

Irene frowns, shutting the door to a close, her eyes gazing back to see the small device innocently sticking to the floor like gum in her hair. Why couldn’t Seungwan just get it herself? It wasn’t like the remote was that far, so –

 

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod –” Irene pauses her silly trek towards the device, frozen at the mantra pouring out of Seungwan’s mouth like a broken pipe. “Just. OHMYGOD.”

 

Her pulse rises in her chest, suddenly feeling as anxious as Seungwan (but she hears no sound; the TV is mute – what’s up with that?) until Irene’s jumping from a shattering shriek – her hands immediately shooting up to cover her ears, wanting to be amused at the sight of Seungwan diving into the covers of her pillow fortress if only she wasn’t so scared herself (Irene blames Seungwan – the girl could _scream_ ).

 

“TURNITOFFTURNITOFFTURNITOFF!” The words cascade out in discord, a screeching mess so jumbled that Irene stumbles from the impact of its sheer volume.

 

Irene’s more scared of Seungwan’s billowing outcries of horror than whatever was actually frightening the girl.

 

Keeping her ears covered, Irene bends down to pick up the device, inwardly groaning at Seungwan’s shrieks bouncing off the walls of their small apartment. For such a meek girl, Seungwan certainly knew how to belt out her notes.

 

Maybe she sings? It’d explain why –

 

Irene doesn’t get to finish her list of thoughts when something smacks right into the back of her head, soft enough that the impact barely does any damage due to its fluffy stuffing. She pauses briefly to see her poor purple pillow now lying beside the tiny remote.

 

Did Seungwan just –

 

“Please tie your hair up, Hyun!” Irene would’ve been shocked at the delirious command if she weren’t already startled by the fact that Seungwan had just thrown a _pillow_ at her (and it was her _precious purple pillow!_ ).

 

“Excuse me?” She chokes out her surprise, not knowing how to react to Seungwan’s sudden lack of nervous limbs.

 

But Irene doesn’t get an answer when Seungwan’s screeching from her lungs again, shoving a pillow against her face to hide from whatever she’s seeing. Irene bothers to look up once she grasps the remote and her pillow, spotting a woman with long, _long_ dark hair and one eye peeking between ebony strands.

 

The image startles her a bit, feeling quite thankful for the muted TV, but a more pressing thought protrudes the corners of her mind.

 

Seungwan basically said she looked like a horror movie character – _“Please tie your hair up, Hyun!”_ – should she be offended? _Just like Yerim…_

 

“Did she come out of a well?” Irene asks curiously, remembering how Yerim had talked about ‘The Grudge’ (she has yet to see the movie – maybe this was it?).

 

“No, she – PLEASETURNITOFF!!”

 

Irene winces again, fearing for Seungwan’s vocal cords and does as she’s told, the TV going black. She hears Seungwan’s heavy sigh of relief, feeling amused as she stands to place the remote on the center table, passing the pillow back to her jittery roommate.

 

Seungwan gives her a grateful smile, “Thanks,” she says, before fiddling with the purple edges. “And sorry – for um, hitting you with it.”

 

Irene laughs Seungwan’s nerves away, “You surprised me with your good aim and belted notes. This is the loudest you’ve ever been,”

 

Seungwan looks embarrassed and Irene pats her on the back, reassuring her. It’s oddly charming to see how Seungwan’s still surrounded by a wall of pillows, wondering how long it took for her roommate to make such a fortress. The thought of Seungwan running back and forth for more square and rectangular defenses gets Irene’s lips to keep its smile.

 

“Anyways, you hungry? Share that take-out with me,” Irene says, pulling the pillows out of Seungwan’s way so the shorter girl could slip free.

 

They laugh about how Seungwan had gotten herself into that mess, watching how her roommate looks completely at ease in her presence in the comfort of their simple apartment. The atmosphere warms Irene’s chest more than hot coffee.

 

She’s home.

 

-

 

Irene figured she should get a hair cut (it was getting a little long) and so she did.

 

Seungwan had gone along with her, the two of them getting some layers (more so her than Seungwan) with her roommate rekindling her relationship with her signature fringe.

 

They had separated shortly after since Seungwan still had work, dropping her off at the music store before returning to the apartment. There was no assignment to be done and since Irene had been too bored to stay indoors, she was now back out to stroll around the snow covered streets; the weather too kind to pass up.

 

Irene lets her feet explore, her boots crunching sparkles of white as she flits by stores of the central shopping district, spotting Seungwan’s workplace just around the corner. She makes a note to visit her once she’s done checking the rest of the shops sprinkled about, loving how the yellow afternoon rays dust gold along the snow. Irene never got to appreciate it before.

 

The fascination doesn’t last long when she catches a giant furry brown thing from the corner of her eyes, looking up to see a bear mascot lingering by the entrance of a store.

 

Build-A-Bigger-Bear?

 

Irene feels her inner child begin to claw out, unable to hide the excitement she knows is oozing out from the way her lips tug into a growing grin, eyes widening at the rows of teddy bears along with assortments of attires for dress up.

 

She shoves her phone back into the crooks of her pocket (having just sent her reply to her professor), her steps leading her to the entrance of the store, glancing warily at the mascot looking disheveled with a crowd of children lingering at its feet. Irene feels bad as she watches tiny hands grab at its fur, clutching and shrieking with happiness as it dolled up a tinier version of itself.

 

Her eyes roam the store, feeling joy sweep along her chest at the variety of clothes and bears of differing colors and sizes. Irene maneuvers around parents with squealing children, couples with twin shirts, and rambunctious teenagers, to settle on a clean, crisp white teddy bear looking so much like Seungwan's worn out counterpart.

 

Irene scavenges for a blue dress, plucking the teddy bear along with her over to the clothing section. The soft material of the bear's head squishes childish glee along her cheek, her lips dancing happiness as she sorts through the pile of dresses. Her grin feels permanent when she spots a purple dress – _Oooh so cute,_ but pauses when she sees a blue dress mirror Seungwan's. Just not as torn.

 

She raises the bear's arms, looping through the slots of the dress and pats it down, noting how the resemblance is uncanny. Someone had given this to Seungwan. Or maybe Seungwan had bought herself one long ago?

 

"Do you have a Wendy too?"

 

Irene jumps at the tiny voice, a hand to her chest as she stares at a little blonde girl tugging at her grey jacket. Where did this child come from?

 

"What?" She chokes out amidst her startled haze, attempting to ease the rushing thrum in her chest.

 

She wants to scold the girl for the shock she gave her (she’s not even good with kids – why is this child here?).

 

The tiny kid gestures to her bear, poking gently at its fluffy arm.

 

"You have a blue dressed teddy," she says like it was supposed to answer every question mark appearing in Irene's head, "You must have a Wendy. Does your Wendy like the sky too?" The girl asks, peering up at her with large brown eyes, her other hand still a fist around the side of her poor jacket.

 

Irene hums carefully, attempting to uncoil the tiny rock still latched onto her coat – what a grip.

 

"Maybe." She mutters absently, more worried about the fist glued against her attire. Was she suddenly a prisoner? "I haven't asked, but she reminds me of it, I guess?" Irene finishes, unsure, as her fingers wedge between grey and soft pale skin, peeling stiff tiny fingers until it coils around her hand instead.

 

Irene yelps in surprise when the child flits their fingers together, filling the spaces in between. Her head whips around for any sign of this girl's parents, not wanting to be labeled a child molester or some pedophile because Irene was _not_ the one planning to kidnap her. If anything, _this girl was._

 

"... Did you need something?" Irene asks warily, lifting their intertwined hands to dangle it in the air, showcase the problem in case the kid doesn't get it.

 

She still has to call Seungwan about dinner – Irene wants to take her out for a nightly stroll, keep her mind off of things. Maybe they could hang out at the park; let the evening sky and dim streetlights ease the troubles off Seungwan’s eyes.

 

"You look like Bigger-Bear." The little girl says, shaking their hands together, her grip still tight around Irene's skin.

 

Irene arches a brow, "’Bigger-Bear’?"

 

The child nods, pointing towards the direction of the entrance.

 

"The giant teddy bear building other teddy bears,"

 

Irene peers over a woman's shoulder, spotting the bear mascot huddling over a pair of children as they tugged at its arms. She sees a tinier version of itself wedged between its large fluffy hands, pulling an orange t-shirt over its head.

 

"How?" She asks, curious of how a child's imagination runs behind innocent eyes. Was she telling her she was furry? _Should she be offended?_

 

The little girl tugs at her blue dressed teddy bear with her free hand, petting its head.

 

"You look like you can't stop thinking about your Wendy."

 

Irene's heart hitches to a stop, briefly dazed from the implication of her simple statement. She wants to probe – ask _how, why; that’s not true, right?_ But the moment changes when something pats her shoulder, jolting Irene into alert.

 

Her hand is already hovering over the little girl, her arm a makeshift shield as she blocks the child from the stranger’s view, keeping her close behind her.

 

Irene finally looks up to see the towering giant only to feel her forehead get flicked by a sturdy slim finger.

 

“First Yeri, now a little kid? They keep getting younger with you, unnie.” She recognizes the overbearing confidence as she rubs at her wounded skin, scowling as Sooyoung kneels so she’s eye level with the child; her hair is cut shorter. “Now I have to wonder why you skipped me. Am I not young enough?”

 

“Don’t you have someone else you like?” Irene mutters as she massages fingers against her forehead, not quite processing the words she just said.

 

“So if I didn’t like anyone, you’d actually consider me?” Sooyoung’s Cheshire smile gets Irene’s skin crawling, knowing full well that she’d never let it go if she were to stumble now.

 

Irene doesn’t get to retort, quip back – _in your dreams,_ when the child’s hand slithers her fingers to curl between hers again.

 

Sooyoung’s laughter is bright and amused, “Did you lure her in with an original ‘Wanna go see my fabric softener – I have lots of fabric softener’ unnie?”

 

Irene whacks her with a hand to the back of her head, chastising, not feeling the least bit guilty for Sooyoung’s yelped _“Ow,”_ as she surveys the store for any sign of parents or guardian looking for a missing child.

 

“… She smells like my favorite fabric softener,” Irene’s head whips back to stare at the girl, watching her fiddle with the end of her white frilly dress. “… Does that count?”

 

Irene’s not sure how to feel about the fact that the child basically said she _lured her in with fabric softener – she’s no criminal!_ What did she do wrong?

 

Sooyoung looks like she wants to spout nonsense again from the way her eyes twinkle with mischief – promising her of endless bouts of teasing when someone mercifully intercepts.

 

“Tae-Tae! Didn’t I tell you to stay clo –”

 

Irene finds herself staring at the bear mascot, briefly wondering how soft the fur feels like as the little girl – _Tae-Tae?_ Lets go of her hand to wrap her arms around a fluffy brown leg.

 

“Beargi!”

 

“’Bear-Gi?’” Irene doesn’t understand why Sooyoung’s voice suddenly sounds like a squeak, looking oddly startled at the sight of a mascot.

 

“Oh, Joy! Coffee unnie!” The bear chirps, its feminine voice strikingly familiar that it takes a bit of time for the gears in Irene’s head to process who it is (even with the embarrassing nickname – did she _have_ to use it?). “Welcome – is there a bear you two have in mind?”

 

_“It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore.”_

It’s Seulgi.

 

Irene’s slightly surprised at how much contrast there is to her voice; how this afternoon chirp is so different to last night’s melancholic plead (even their morning coffee talk had Seulgi’s voice laced with a sad undertone). Then again, she’s not quite sure when Seulgi has on the safety of her costume’s head acting as a helmet for protection.

 

Vaguely aware, Irene can already hear Sooyoung’s inevitable line – “ _Yeah. You,”_ – but Sooyoung’s weak attempt at indifference makes her cringe instead.

 

“No. I’m window shopping,” her friend deadpans.

 

Seulgi’s laugh is lighthearted as she ushers the little girl towards the other side of the store.

 

“Well if you two need anything, I’ll just be over there, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Irene says simply, wondering when the word became her favorite to be said so often as of late.

 

She watches them pause near a row of accessories, a cluster of children beginning to surround Seulgi again. Irene never thought she’d be working as a bear mascot – she didn’t look the type to hide such a pretty face (she admits the girl has allure; there’s no reason to deny it). Maybe she likes kids?

 

“’Window shopping’?” Irene mocks gently, nudging Sooyoung with an elbow to her rib.

 

Sooyoung swats her arm away, “Yeah, yeah. So are you going to buy that plushy or what?” She retorts, poking at the blue dress of her white teddy bear.

 

Irene considers it, remembering the old worn out bear back in Seungwan’s room, specks of dust and yellow-white coloring the plushy, its faded blue dress torn at the edges. She stares at the crisp, clean, snowy white cradled in her arms – its blue a more solid hue.

 

Irene compares the pictures in her head, before removing the blue dress and returning both items to their respective aisles. Sooyoung follows her quietly, her footsteps mirroring her own as Irene steps out of the store, waving a quick goodbye to Seulgi when she catches her eye; an additional wave for the weird little girl, too (Irene scowls at the child’s nickname for her – _“Bye fabric softener!”_ ).

 

She won’t replace an old, worn out – _but loved,_ toy for something new.

 

“Do you know a place that sells a sewing kit?” Irene asks as they peer through windows of the shopping district.

 

Sooyoung doesn’t question her as she points towards a small building, “You could try over there,”

 

Irene does, dragging Sooyoung along by the wrist even when she complains, _“I have somewhere to go, places to be, people to_ see! _”_ and Irene hushes her with, _“Yeah and you chose me.”_

Sooyoung’s whine doesn’t stop there, but Irene knows she doesn’t mean any of her complaints. For all the tough acts she puts on as a show for the world to see, Irene knows better; recognizing true joy bleeding off of Sooyoung from the way she wrenches Irene’s grip from her wrist so they could hold hands instead.

 

“Do you even know how to sew?” Sooyoung asks unabashedly, swinging their arms together like they’re kids and not young adults already.

 

Irene blanches at the realization, “… No.”

 

“I’ll pay for the ‘Sewing for Dummies’ then,”

 

She can’t argue with that, “… Okay.”

 

-

 

Wendy can feel her nerves tick away in her limbs, how her fingers refuse to stop from its tremors.

 

She’s on break now, knowing full well that it’s the perfect time to visit Seulgi. Their work schedules are fairly similar, their shifts purposely made so they could see each other every time. It also helps that they’re not far apart with a simple 2 minute walk.

 

But Wendy’s nervous. She feels like she’s shaking so much that people might think she’s forgotten to turn the temperature up in the store (it’s actually a bit too warm – the kids have even complained).

 

Her watch tells her she’s got 25 minutes left until her break is over. It bugs her how fast 5 minutes has already passed.

 

Grabbing her coat, Wendy slips on navy blue and waves at her coworker before breathing in cool winter air.

 

Her steps are slow, letting the snow absorb the footprints she makes against white sand so her lungs fill up with the calming cold. It helps flush the nervous heat cradling her skin, not minding the quiet trek so her head could clear of any thoughts.

 

It works until her feet pause by the doorway of Build-A-Bigger-Bear, seeing how Seulgi is helping a child dress up his brown toy bear.

 

Lots of things go through her mind, greetings she’s suddenly unsure of how to say: ‘Hey, what’s up?’ ‘How’re you?’ ‘Great weather today, huh?’ and everything else in between, from the way Seulgi tends to smile a certain way just for her to the way she holds her closer like it’s okay.

 

Wendy gets startled at a gentle pressure on her back, Seulgi’s bear hand guiding her into the warmth of the toy store, her signature grin curving along the edges of her lips (or so Wendy imagines at least, her mascot’s head still hiding the taller girl’s face).

 

“Are you trying to be a popsicle, Wen?” Seulgi laughs gently, her voice muffled by the bear’s head as she ushers her near the back of the shop. “I know it’s nice out but still. You could get sick, you know?”

 

Her words barely register in her head.

 

Wendy wants to see Seulgi’s face. Just hearing her voice doesn’t ease the nervous tremor still cradling her heart.

 

Wordlessly, her fingers reach up to curl under the mask, her skin grazing along Seulgi’s warm neck that the whole act feels just as familiar as the other times she’s done this (she remembers teasing Seulgi just last week).

 

Seulgi hurriedly clasps at her wrists, “Hey hey, didn’t I tell you the kids will get heartbroken?” Seulgi chuckles, hastily removing her hands so they’re by Wendy’s sides again.

 

_“I-I have to, um, keep this on until my shift is over – don’t want to break the children’s hearts, so…”_

 

Wendy blinks the memory haze away, recognizing Seulgi’s voice anywhere. _Why did it seem so timid?_

“So…” Seulgi starts slowly, gesturing towards an aisle filled with stuffed bears of varying sizes. “See anything you like?”

 

Wendy stares at the rows of toys, remembering her own old worn out teddy bear left to gather dust in the corner of her bedroom. She shuts her eyes when the noises begin to crawl back, playing with the tips of her earlobes that Wendy’s ticking them away against her watch again.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick _– three,_

 

“Aren’t you angry with me?” Wendy begins, ignoring Seulgi’s filler question, “That I forgot – that _I still do._ ” She hears Seulgi’s breath hitch at her confession, a wry smile plaguing the corners of Wendy’s lips. “Why are you acting like everything’s okay?” She asks, looking up to see just a bear’s face.

 

She has an inkling feeling rising in her chest that having the mask stay on feels more like a convenient excuse than a logical reason (especially since they’re both on break).

 

Wendy only sees the way Seulgi shakes her head, how her shoulders rise up as if to shrug – like it wasn’t important.

 

“Oh Wen-Wen, there goes your cute little worried heart again.” Seulgi sighs as if exasperated, a smile curling at the end of her words. “Why would I ever be mad at –”

 

The playful lilt in Seulgi’s voice snaps a chord in Wendy’s head.

 

“Stop it!” She shouts, her throat so thick with words just waiting to be said. Wendy barely registers the customers looking their way. “Just – just _stop._ Stop pretending like you're okay – like nothing’s changed...” She can’t tell if her plead makes it to Seulgi’s ears, not when the mascot’s head acts as a shield to cover her face. “Stop pretending like you didn't kiss me.”

 

Wendy’s never hated seeing Seulgi wear the costume as much as she does now.

 

The silence is unbearable, but Wendy finds comfort in knowing how her words sink in the air like caramel poison – sweetly detrimental. She wants to get rid of this false cloud surrounding them, circling them in fog of fake security.

 

Seulgi deserves better.

 

“… I'm sorry.” The taller girl says after the customers go back to their usual routine of flitting through merchandise. “I'm just… so used to pretending like we're just friends.” Wendy attempts to discern the haze in Seulgi’s voice, how it carries phony strength like there isn’t a tremor between each syllable. “I'm… I’m just so used to pretending like I'm not in love with you that at times, I wish it were true.”

 

The truth eases the coils tightened around Wendy’s chest, but it doesn’t make her breathing any easier.

 

“Seul…” Wendy wants to take the bear mask off – wipe away the tears she hears in Seulgi’s voice.

 

Seulgi’s croak betrays her false pillar of being okay; it makes Wendy wonder if the taller girl finds strength and comfort in knowing she can’t be seen. _But she wants to see her._

 

“So can't I keep pretending? Just for a little longer – until I'm not anymore?”

 

Wendy wants to answer, but she realizes as Seulgi pats her on the shoulder that she doesn’t know what to say. What could she say?

 

“You better head back before your shift starts again, so be careful out there, okay?” Seulgi’s back to playing like there’s nothing wrong with them, ushering her gently through the aisle.

 

All Wendy manages to say is a weak _“Okay,”_ before she watches Seulgi turn around, cater to another child stumbling towards her, a pink bear being shoved into her arms.

 

-

 

Wendy makes it home at 11 in the evening.

 

She makes sure to click the lock to a close for the 43rd time, her hand slipping away from slick metal once she’s satisfied. Wendy hangs her navy blue coat back on the rack, images of Seulgi’s mascot face giving away nothing except the broken voice muffled behind it.

 

Her sigh is tired, spinning around once she’s done kicking off her boots so she could catch some much needed rest (and maybe wash away the sound of Seulgi in her ears – at least for tonight).

 

Wendy’s dragging exhausted feet towards the couch when she spots Joohyun keeled over the kitchen table, items and cloth scattered all over the surface. She sees what looks to be her yellow-white teddy bear sitting comfortably across Joohyun in another chair, its faded blue dress sprawled on the table the closer she gets.

 

Her eyes fall on an open book, flipping it over so she could read the cover.

 

‘Sewing for Dummies’.

 

Somehow the label makes Wendy want to cry instead of laugh, noting squiggly scribbles vandalizing around the silly title.

 

“’Don’t go stabbing yourself with a needle when you find out you can’t, okay unnie?’” Wendy recites out loud, soft enough that it won’t startle Joohyun awake, catching the name ‘Joy’ signed at the bottom. She reads the extended note; _‘PS: I can’t believe you skipped me when I’m just as young!’_

Wendy has no idea what the girl’s referring to, but she can already hear the humor pounding against her ears, easily imagining Joy’s raucous laughter.

 

She takes a seat beside her, a smile already curling at the corners of her lips at the sight of a sleeping Joohyun; how her cheek is cushioned between her arms, layers of ebony cascaded over her brows.

 

Wendy spots the bandages wrapped around pale fingers, a needle lying just beside her limp left hand. She makes sure to take the sharp object back into its kit, far, _far_ away from Joohyun before cradling her own head so she could mimic her roommate.

 

She’s aware of how creepy this must look to outsiders (Wendy figures she kind of is), but it doesn’t stop her when she knows no one else is looking except her. She’s thankful to be the only one who can.

 

Wendy could hear Joohyun’s soft breathing, how it hums against her sleeve, and somehow, its successive rhythm tempts her closer until she feels her breathe against her lips. Joohyun’s heart pumping in wisps of invisible life between her teeth cradles Wendy’s mind into quiet – the noises no longer present.

 

She wants to feel plump lips, but settles for kissing her cheek again instead, letting it linger so her soft skin mars the flesh of her mouth. Wendy can already smell vanilla and lavender – and that lingering hint of orange.

 

Her hands reach for the faded blue dress, seeing how the edges are no longer torn, its seams fixed by new knots sewn into its fabric. Joohyun sewed it.

 

She wants to ask why – _why go through this trouble?_ – but keeps mum as she clutches for the old teddy bear, smelling wafts of fabric softener and even tinges of Joohyun’s vanilla and lavender glued to its fluffy fur. Even the dress smells like her.

 

Wendy loops the bear’s arms through its fixed blue dress, patting it down so she could look at it properly. No dust cradles the surface of its fur, her hand rubbing crisp clean white and specks of old yellow like its been carefully washed. _And it has._

She wonders why it doesn’t hurt to look at the bear anymore, hugging it close, shutting her eyes, her nose burying deep into its soft fur. Wendy has a feeling it’s because it now carries wisps of Joohyun.

 

Wendy turns her head so she’s watching her again, her mind whirring away to sketch the innocent image into her memory.

 

She takes her time memorizing each slope of Joohyun’s face, before her roommate’s cellphone lights up and someone’s name blares bright against the screen; the mobile placed on mute.

 

‘Yerim <3’.

 

The reminder is painfully loud against her ears even when it’s completely silent. Wendy swallows the truth as she finishes the little details left of Joohyun’s lashes behind her mind’s eye, the symbol of a heart next to Yeri’s name a burning torch across her hopeful thoughts.

 

“… You still love her, don’t you?” Wendy whispers into the quiet, listening to Joohyun’s silent breathing as her simple response.

 

Of course; Yeri’s still in the picture – especially now that they’ve found each other. What was she expecting?

 

_As long as Joohyun’s happy._

 

She keeps hum after that, shutting her eyes against her bear’s soft head, the noises coming back in wisps of Seulgi’s broken voice, vanilla and lavender keeping the pain at bay.

 

Wendy falls into slumber in mixtures of Seulgi and Joohyun, missing how her roommate rises from her sleep, cradling a hand to the spot she had kissed on her cheek. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … This took longer to post than expected, but of course, it was because life happened. Here’s the fluff I’ve promised to you, or at least, what I could give considering their circumstances.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and hope you have enjoyed this update – until next time.


	9. Polarize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joy has a list of things she knows aren't worth her time.
> 
>  
> 
> Seulgi is one of them.

Joy has a list of things she knows aren't worth her time.

 

Seulgi is one of them.

 

"Are you sure you can handle this, unnie?"

 

Joy watches with flashes of doubt coloring her lips, a frown across her mouth. Anxiety rolls up her sleeves from the way she grabs onto Joohyun's shoulders to observe how the older girl loops the string through the needle.

 

"It can't be that bad, right?" Joohyun looks fine so far, piercing through the blue dress.

 

Her yelp gives her away, flinching back to stare at the puncture wound on her hand.

 

Joy grimaces at the bubble of blood rising at the tip of Joohyun's opposite finger.

 

"Seriously unnie, this is a _terrible_ idea." She scolds the older girl as she scavenges for the first aid kit. "Are you sure you'll be fine without my supervision?"

 

She can hear Joohyun's scoff all the way from the bathroom, _"I'm not a child,"_ plucking the box out of the bottom cabinet and trudging back just to find another finger stabbed through.

 

The noise leaving her mouth is a mixture of amused laughter and bewildered astonishment, clucking her tongue as she yanks Joohyun's injured hand to stare at the tiny pools of red against pale white.

 

"I leave you for a few seconds and you're already trying to kill yourself." Joohyun grunts, attempting to wrench back her captive hand but Joy keeps it close. "Hold still so you won't bleed to death, okay?"

 

Joy knows she's exaggerating, grinning impishly at Joohyun's scowl.

 

"But it's not even that bad—"

 

"Let's just cover them up so you hopefully won't be puncturing the same place _twice._ "

 

Joohyun huffs, indignant, and Joy is reminded of how much the older girl yo-yo's back and forth between overprotective guardian and careless infant.

 

Once she wraps the two bandages over wounded fingers, kissing them playfully and guffawing at Joohyun's violent slap to her back, Joy leaves the first aid kit atop the table and motions towards the door.

 

"Make sure to follow the instructions thoroughly, okay?" Joy reminds her, glancing at the manual for dummies beside her, a teasing lilt drawing along the corners of her lips.

 

She pokes at Joohyun's soft cheek, feeling heat cradle the tip of her finger, and dodges her swatting hand.

 

Joy is laughing away, letting her heart sing for this feather light moment until she shuts the door behind her along with that brief peaceful reprieve.

 

She snuggles her nose against her white striped green scarf, humming to a silent tune and hoping her time with Joohyun is enough to erase the sketch mark still haunting her in every dream.

 

She remembers how it all started – how she had her precious freedom until it was suddenly snapped away from her.

 

Joy thinks back to that Autumn two years ago, shoving through the double doors of Joohyun's apartment and wanting the winter cold to keep her company.

 

She's sick of how Seulgi is her only nightmare.

 

-

 

Click.

 

 _Great,_ Joy thought, admiring her capture once the image drew clearer, cradling her Polaroid carefully between her fingers.

 

It was a picture of October, leaves dangling from a skinny arching branch above a shimmering lake carrying its green, orange, yellow, and red, fallen neighbors.

 

Joy flipped through her scrapbook, sticking it onto her growing collection of photos with transparent tape. She felt gleeful at the gallery, flitting through images of winter, fall, spring, and summer, of last year. Pride rose in waves over her chest at the shots she had managed to take.

 

Time for a new year's worth of season pictorials.

 

Joy hummed, happy at her sets of summer pictures taken just a few months ago.

 

Closing it shut and stuffing it back into her purse, Joy allowed her legs to wander off around the block, fascination driving her feet as she searched for another perfect shot to take.

 

Clatters of laughing children echoed into her ears, a smile painting her lips when they sped past, balloons of green and orange zipping along the specks of dead leaves falling about.

 

Benches along the main pathway were loitered with clusters of differing age groups. The elderly hung near the sidewalk, hands holding onto newspapers or each other. The teens weren't much different except for the cellphones they had between their fingers, furiously tapping away on tiny keyboards.

 

Joy raised her Polaroid camera, wanting a shot of the serene disarray of a typical park that carried life's image.

 

Click.

 

She allowed the picture to develop, keeping it between sturdy fingers as she strolled through, admiring the lake that glistened beneath an orange afternoon.

 

Joy plucked out her journal again to fit the new photo in, securing it with tape and feeling that same bubble of happiness draw along her lips.

 

She stared at the people that managed to make it in, loving how they added to its overall atmosphere: the children, the elderly, the teenagers, and—

 

Joy squinted, urging her eyes to close in on a particular individual atop the slope of the park.

 

A girl was painting.

 

She noted a canvas lying on her lap, a brush sketching the image of the lake that sat across from her (or so Joy assumed), her hair tied into a bun – an orange cardigan and black jeans adorning her stilled figure.

 

Joy was in awe, how happy chaos shrouded the center in frozen pictures of different ages, with silent – almost invisible, calm perched just above them.

 

It was beautiful.

 

Her body spun around before she could process what she was doing, her feet already jogging their way up the hill.

 

 _Oh god,_ she thought, keenly aware of how her ears were ringing the nerves in her chest. Joy didn't understand why she felt anxiously excited – what was she even going to do anyway? Say hello? What for?

 

Her legs almost buckled at the sight of her standing, hastily ducking behind the nearest tree so she could catch both her breath and sense of judgment.

 

What the hell was she doing—

 

Joy jumped at the cracks of shriveled leaves, peeking out to spot the girl pack her things.

 

She watched her yank an iPod out of her pocket, fitting a white headphone over her head to cover her ears before walking away, her black Nike's crunching tiny piles of dry orange and red.

 

She waited until her silhouette disappeared behind crowds of park explorers, marring the stranger's image into her memory.

 

Joy wondered if she was crazy for thinking how messy-bun girl (the nickname was rather appropriate, she thought with pride) was a walking portrait.

 

She was beautiful.

 

-

 

She took it back.

 

Messy-bun girl (she was going to call her photo bomber at this point) wouldn't stop messing with her photos.

 

Somehow, and Joy still didn't understand how she did it, photo bomber (screw messy-bun, this was perfectly accurate) managed to squeeze herself in for almost every picture she tried to take of beautiful landscapes.

 

Was she cursed?

 

Joy couldn't fathom how, despite traveling as far away from the park as she could (because that had been the first – _unfortunate,_ snapshot of photo bomber), the girl was still there.

 

Whether it was in the corner of a picture about a building's beautiful architecture, or as some horrid blurred blob whizzing past in the center of a beautiful traffic jam. It was getting ridiculous.

 

Did she suddenly lose her skill of snapping great pictures? Or was this girl following her?

 

She was _everywhere._

 

Obviously not in every picture, that was too exaggerative even for her, but photo bomber _did_ manage to photo bomb, well, every _other_ significant supposed-to-be-perfect-photo of the city.

 

Joy was running out of film thanks to her – and Polaroid film was _expensive._

 

Click.

 

She grumbled when the image merely stayed behind her phone's screen, missing the way she could have pictures literally within her palm – fresh, new, solid, and _real._

 

But as much as she craved a film's crispy smooth touch, Joy valued her bank account more (she admits that her scrapbook is filled with it but each shot were important – and not messed up so the money was never wasted).

 

 _God,_ could this get any worse?

 

"Your painting looks really beautiful! I bet it'll reel in even more customers."

 

"Thank you!"

 

Oh god, it _did._

 

Joy scowled as her steps slowed to watch photo bomber streak colors of the rainbow over the side of her favorite café’s wall, an image of exactly that. A rainbow.

 

Her brows twitched, feeling all too sure that the world was mocking her and having way too much fun at it.

 

It was her favorite. _Café._

 

First her pictures, now her only source of yummy swirly croissants?

 

This _little_ —

 

"Unnie, will you quit staring at pretty painter girl? I want my cheese cake."

 

Joy had fumbled over her words, her tongue caught between syllables of 'Are you kidding me' to 'Over Satan's dead body', her feet stumbling through the doors at Yeri's strong grip.

 

She grumbled her order as she glared back at the photo bomber near the windows, her expression completely at ease – even _happy,_ at the image she continued to render for everyone to see.

 

_Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid fat grin and her stupid messy bun and—_

 

"I told you to stop gawking at your crush, didn't I?"

 

Joy grunted at a hard poke to her side, slapping Yeri's hand away as they settled into a spot far, _far_ from the windows.

 

Huffing her disdain for such a twisted thought (crush – on her? That was the dumbest thing she has ever heard), Joy crossed her arms and kicked Yeri's shin beneath the table.

 

"Not. A crush."

 

Yeri looked unimpressed.

 

Joy's hand began to make desperate motions, as if the extra lengths of her arms flailing about were enough to convince her friend, jumbles of sentences spilling between her teeth ( _"No. Seriously, I'd die if that happens."_ and _"Have you actually seen her? Look at those horrible pants and that ugly cardigan!"_ ).

 

The shorter girl hadn't batted an eyelash, simply sipping her cup of coffee before munching on her cheesecake.

 

Joy wanted to strangle her.

 

"Are you even paying attention, Yeri?"

 

"I am,"

 

She felt her brows twitch at the younger girl's nonchalance, watching Yeri pick at her food before shoving a piece into her mouth again.

 

Joy scoffed, crossing her arms.

 

"Really now?"

 

"Yeah." Yeri spoke between her munching, her cheeks filled into tiny storage bumps. "Do you always smile when you complain?"

 

Joy was about to scold her for the mess she was making along her lips, specks of cheesecake latched onto the edges of her mouth, before her hand froze above the table; napkin dangling between stilled fingers.

 

"I – what?!"

 

Yeri continued chewing between her words, the obnoxious slapping sounds of her lips smacking against Joy's ears.

 

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you were happy to be talking about her." She said, twirling her fork in the direction of photo bomb girl.

 

Joy threw the napkin at her suddenly smug face.

 

"That's – Yeri, you _know_ me. She's everywhere!" Her hands were making wild motions again, hoping the ferocity lining her limbs were enough to persuade her. "She just goes off to ruin my perfect pictures."

 

Yeri nodded, as if agreeing to her plight.

 

"I _do_ know you."

 

"Good, glad that's settled."

 

Joy crossed her arms again, clucking her tongue at the way monolid lady (she didn't know why she had this impression of her being double instead) retied her hair – how cascades of black pooled over slim shoulders, her smile beaming at customers walking in.

 

_Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid bear face and her stupid—_

 

"Shut up, Yeri."

 

"I didn't say anything!"

 

Joy huffed, well aware of Yeri's knowing smile. Joy wanted to smack it off but refrained in fear that Yeri would pursue her silly thought that she was happy.

 

_Pfffft, no._

 

That clueless monolid should seriously stop photo bombing her shots. What a waste of good pictures.

 

-

 

When she thought about it, all she needed was something better to look at – something far more distracting than that dumb monolid.

 

She needed something far more interesting, far more eye catching – far more beautiful (Joy denies photo bomb girl were any of these qualities – _pffft,_ impossible; she was just an itch that she couldn't seem to scratch).

 

The next time she visited the café, the painting was done.

 

A rainbow arching over a modern city, dulled with shades of monochrome. Patches of color sprinkled the corners of grey buildings, waves of vibrant red, blue, orange, green, and yellow, drawn as if it was going to wash the mesh of black and white away.

 

 _... Not bad,_ she thought, before catching herself.

 

Monolid was in her head again.

 

Her steps motioned through the door, recognizing the familiar bell chime of the entrance as she marched towards the cashier.

 

Joy needed a distraction.

 

"Thanks," she said, dismissive as her eyes wandered for exactly that, discouraged at the lack of patrons; there were too many free tables and not enough eye candy.

 

Her sigh was heavy, running frustrated fingers through her hair before spotting exactly what she needed.

 

Raven hair tied into a ponytail, her slim white fingers clacking away at her keyboard, donning a checkered black-white-red flannel over a simple white tee with skinny black jeans. Her expression was scrunched, clearly focused on whatever task she had behind the laptop screen.

 

The girl was a cutie.

 

But the thought didn't stay for long, getting replaced immediately by a pair of monolid eyes that wouldn't stop smiling.

 

Joy attempted to get rid of it.

 

"Can I sit here?"

 

She wasn't surprised to see the woman startled at her voice, how she jolted from her seat, her elbow nearly toppling her drink. The stranger let her eyes roam about the café.

 

Joy remembers being impressed with this seemingly timid girl for her blunt tongue.

 

"There are empty tables everywhere." She deadpanned, a brow raised.

 

Joy tapped a finger against her drink, patience running dry because photo bomb girl still cycled around behind her eyes.

 

"I'm not up for sitting by myself today. Is that okay?"

 

She didn't get to hear whether the woman accepted her silly excuse when monolid stumbled through the café doors a second later – a giant roll of paper and a bag filled with paintbrushes dangling between her arms.

 

"Oh um – just a regular coffee, please!"

 

She gasped out like she had just been running laps around the neighborhood (Joy felt more inclined to say she was running through her mind and now she was here; finally out of her head – but that was something she didn't want to admit).

 

Joy hadn't wasted time and settled herself across from flannel woman, ignoring the stranger's disapproving glower as she flitted through her home screen, attempting to distract herself from the fact that photo bomb girl was there too.

 

"I didn't say yes,"

 

"You took too long."

 

"You ignored my 'no', actually."

 

"Oh really? You should've been louder then."

 

Joy grinned when she looked up to see the stranger seethe in her seat, not doubting that her glare could burn buckets of raw chicken if Joy had offered her some.

 

"What's your name? I'm Sooyoung, but Joy sounds better." She offered a truce, raising a hand for her to shake.

 

The woman was mystified at her calm redirection, her brows scrunching up as if confused at her effort to get to know her.

 

"... Sooyoung." She said, hesitating, as if to practice the foreign taste on her tongue.

 

Joy's brows furrowed at her Korean name, withdrawing her hand.

 

"Didn't I just say I preferred 'Joy' better?"

 

"Yeah." She answered simply, before tapping her fingers away on her keyboard again. "But why do I have to listen to you when you didn't listen to me?"

 

Joy didn't know whether she should laugh or be impressed at her competitive bravery.

 

She settled for being whiningly complacent.

 

"Whatever."

 

Joy was grateful for the contrast in her initial impression. It helped clear her head of photo bomb girl; she'd take a conversation with a stranger that had a dagger tongue any day.

 

But monolid lady just _had_ to sit at a table near the window where her eyes could see her perfectly.

 

"Oh god this is _ridiculous_ —"

 

"Why do you look constipated?"

 

The frustration boiling in her chest was suddenly doused with flannel woman's sardonic remark.

 

Joy rolled her eyes but felt thankful for the pull back to reality.

 

She drummed her fingers against the circle table, attempted to keep her eyes at the stranger (who was supposed to be monolid's replacement) but fell short when they found their way back to messy-bun girl.

 

 _Geez,_ she had so many nicknames for this woman.

 

"Did you sit with me so you wouldn't be that obvious about your crush?"

 

Joy snapped her eyes back to flannel lady, words already leaving her mouth to scratch away such a wrong assumption. She felt offended.

 

"First of all, no. Second of all, _just no._ "

 

"You look really wound up—"

 

"Screw her – she's literally _everywhere_. Like, is she _stalking_ me?" Joy scoffed, her complaint tumbling out of her mouth like it was finally free from its trap door cage. "Why does she have to keep ruining my pictures? She's in Every. Single. One – almost. Doesn't that sound crazy to you?!"

 

"... Yes."

 

"Me too. God, does she exist just to photo bomb my shots?"

 

"Uh huh,"

 

Joy pulled at her hair, frustration coiling the tips of her fingers that scraped along her scalp.

 

"And now she's _here_. Like, can't she just give my eyes a _break?_ I'm sick of seeing her – it's getting a little out of hand and not to mention creepy."

 

The woman raised a brow, the sound of her clicking keyboard stuck on mute.

 

"... You're not stalking her, are you?"

 

"Are you kidding me?"

 

"No."

 

Joy clucked her tongue, nodding in approval.

 

"I have better things to do then follow some stranger with a stupid bun and her stupid monolid eyes and her stupid face that looks like a stupid bear –"

 

"Right ..."

 

She glared at the stranger's judging look.

 

"–You're just like Yeri! Never listens, what's wrong with you?"

 

"Who's Yeri?"

 

Joy slapped her face, dragging her hand along her cheek, groaning at the world's cruel way of toying with her. Couldn't she have just _one_ good friend?

 

"I'm out of here," Joy stood, curling the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "My eyes need to look at something prettier. Thanks. Sort of, er..."

 

Flannel lady took her cup to her lips.

 

"Joohyun,"

 

"Right," Joy muttered, instinctively glancing up to see miss monolid bopping her head to a rhythm from her headphones, gazing out with November leaves playing as her backdrop.

 

For once (or twice, but the first image at the park was an accident), considering the main subject was _her_ (this girl just wouldn't leave her photo album alone), it looked like a picture worth taking.

 

"Hurry up before she realizes you're a stalker, Sooyoung."

 

Joy scowled at Joohyun's amused smirk, before hearing the girl clacking away on her laptop again, giving her some speck of privacy for her decision.

 

She plucked her Polaroid out of her purse (it felt nice to have it in her hands again), thankful for the relatively empty café on a Monday afternoon so she didn't look creepy in front of a bigger audience.

 

Joy steadied her arms so she could take the perfect shot.

 

Her breath was stuck somewhere between the ridges of her ribs to the dry corridor of her throat when she looked through, wondering briefly if it was okay for her to stare.

 

She clicked the capture button before the moment passed, spinning around when monolid looked her way and hoped her ears would stop ringing.

 

Joy glanced at the picture, briefly wondering how the girl could make the rest of her environment fall short.

 

It was beautiful.

 

But she was still a stupid, clueless, ugly, photo bomber.

 

"One regular cup of coffee for Seulgi!"

 

She watched monolid lady – _Seulgi,_ hop towards the cashier, her grin blindingly bright.

 

So that was her name.

 

-

 

Joy didn't know what to say when Joohyun had told her she was dating Yeri.

 

One – she was shocked the older woman told her first, though perhaps that was why Yeri had texted her that morning to have a hang out because she wanted to say something important and Joohyun had merely intercepted earlier.

 

Two – their age gap was huge (Joy could already imagine Joohyun insisting it wasn't that big), though Yeri had always been mature than most whilst Joohyun was more childish than she initially thought. It worked.

 

Three – how the heck did they even find out about each other? Joy couldn't recall ever inviting the two of them to the same event simply because they were – well, too far apart in terms of age.

 

_“As long as she’s good to you and you’re good to her, I don’t need to know anything else.”_

 

And they worked.

 

Joy had her doubts; it was hard to believe that they had compatibility. They were also both rather quiet, so it was a wonder how they functioned without an awkward cloud hovering over their heads.

 

But she had glimpses of their interactions together and her doubts were swiped clean.

 

And then suddenly they didn’t.

 

"A-Are you okay?"

 

Joy wasn't sure how to approach Seulgi; not when the shorter girl looked as broken as this – a smile filled with pretend and eyes that seemed to know how to play the part.

 

Seulgi walked beside her holding her hand like she was wishing she was someone else.

 

Joy untangled their grip.

 

"Come on, I'll take you home." The taller girl said, guiding her down the steps.

 

Joy ushered her into the passenger's seat, feigning ignorance to the anguish air coloring Seulgi's silent expression.

 

They had left Joohyun and Wendy back at the restaurant, knowing just how much her two closest friends needed to talk (it was quite the pleasant surprise to learn Yeri was working there – not every aspect of their lives were told to one another after all, but still). It was a long time coming.

 

“… I had fun,” Seulgi spoke as they turned a corner, her voice lined with fragility, croaky from its muted pause. “The food was great – I didn’t expect our friends to be friends with each other.”

 

Joy didn’t either. What a small world.

 

“Yeah,”

 

“You look great, by the way.”

 

Joy attempted to play her part of an overconfident maestro, pushing strands of hair off her shoulder as if she were in a shampoo commercial.

 

"I do, don't I?"

 

Butterflies swarmed with happy chaos in her stomach at Seulgi's feather light giggles. It tinkled of glee, how her lips curled upwards for pearly whites to shimmer through.

 

Even with a small smile Seulgi still cradled Joy’s heart with her laughter. It was amazing how happiness flitted past Seulgi's lips when her eyes begged to differ.

 

It was hard not to see the way she looked at Wendy.

 

But even when Seulgi clearly carried somber anguish behind a gleeful mask, it still managed to be beautiful.

 

Joy wished she could snap a picture of this portrait.

 

_... Damn it._

 

"Thanks for the ride again," Seulgi had said before stepping out onto snowy pavement.

 

Joy merely waved back, a plastic grin covering her face; attempting to convince herself that she wasn't pretending to not be disappointed.

 

She tried not to let it slip on the way home, not wanting to crash her car because of her own silly expectations that maybe Seulgi would look her way.

 

It was hard to fake it past her bedroom door, shredding off her teal dress and glaring at the fact that she bothered to make her own adjustments.

 

Joy wanted to punch herself for even bothering with the effort of putting up her own designs, blanching at the memory of how she had been proud of it just hours before.

 

Was she that desperate for photo bomber's attention?

 

_... Stupid._

 

Joy balled the dress into a giant lard of creased teal before dumping it into the trash bin.

 

There was no way she was going to let herself fall for a beauty who still had eyes for someone else.

 

-

 

Joy somehow isn't surprised to find Seulgi sitting on snow just outside of her workplace, her beige coat a seemingly weak barrier against the cold – spotting how the shorter girl shivers under the evening sky.

 

She should've brought a car to Joohyun's place; it'd be mean she wouldn't feel obligated to comfort the crying photo bomber (Joy knows deep down she's thankful she did – if only it meant she could spend more time with her).

 

"You're ugly when you cry."

 

It's the first thing she says, not going with the typical greeting of 'hello' or a simple 'hi' when it would merely place awkward clouds over them.

 

Seulgi is sniffling, rubbing away at her eyes, as Joy settles beside her.

 

Geez, her bottom will get wet – it's _freezing._

 

"J-Joy? What are you doing here?" Seulgi peeks behind thin fingers, her eyes visibly puffy with pink and tears that still drops to mark trails along her cheeks.

 

Joy hugs her knees, resting her head on them so she could watch the way Seulgi attempts to wipe off pain that doesn't want to stop.

 

"I was heading home. You should be too."

 

Seulgi keeps mum, her weak whimpers the only thing that plays as her answer between them. Joy lets her weep, noting the lights have been turned off in the toy store – Seulgi must've been in charge of closing it for the day.

 

She should've at least stayed inside to cry where warmth is present instead of freezing her tears off outside.

 

"Did your friends force you, too?"

 

Joy's eyes snap back to Seulgi, watching the way a loose strand of hair uncurls from her messy bun at every attempt she makes to dry the wet scars off her face.

 

"For what?"

 

"To go on that blind date we had,"

 

 _Oh,_ she thinks then.

 

"Yeah," Joy says, pretending Yeri had pushed her into it when that was far from the truth (she just happened to convince the friendly cashier to set them up; Krystal was nice despite the scary face).

 

"Did I at least pass your expectations?"

 

Joy thinks back to that one evening, how Seulgi had looked at Joohyun's roommate like she was still very much in love with her.

 

She wonders how she had missed such an important part of Seulgi's life; maybe that was why she hadn't seen the other girl as often after that perfect picture – like she had disappeared and the only thing that told Joy it was all real were snapshots of her in her scrapbook.

 

Her words sound so much like the truth that Joy almost falls for it herself.

 

"I had none."

 

It wasn't like Joy spent hours prepping herself in the mirror, tailoring a newly bought dress to her liking and adjusting the hair on her head so she could get a specific person's eyes to look her way.

 

"Ouch. You must have high standards then," Seulgi giggles behind shaking hands, noting how her fingers seem ghostly pale.

 

Joy wants to reach out and hold them – be her fireplace.

 

"I do. It's rather hard to catch my attention, you know." She says instead, keeping her hands to herself.

 

Seulgi laughs, and Joy settles for merely observing the way cold fog spills past chapped lips.

 

"I'm sorry I disappointed you,"

 

Joy knows it's lighthearted, how Seulgi sees her as a comrade – a potential friend waiting to bud under flowerbeds of ignorant longing.

 

She scoffs at her innocent reply, feeling both disheartened and frustrated at the accuracy of Seulgi's words. She still remembers how she threw the dress into a trash bin as soon as she got home.

 

"Yeah well, I'm a tough one to crack." Joy musters up the courage to keep her voice steady, aim to reveal absolutely nothing under her stuttering heart. "You're just a tiny bit above average though. 71 out of a 100 at best."

 

"Are you number 1 then?" Seulgi grins, her smile making butterflies leap in Joy's stomach even when they had perfectly functioning wings instead.

 

Joy taps a thinking finger against her chin, as if to ponder her answer, keenly aware of Seulgi's amused look.

 

"70. Definitely better than you, though. Just not the best." Joy retorts, smugly modest, attempting to hide her tremor voice from Seulgi's radiant expression.

 

Even her eyes are smiling; she's not used to seeing it up close.

 

"For what it's worth, I did find you pretty. Still do," Seulgi says, jolting frequency jumps at every beat in Joy's chest. "So I'm happy I'm only one digit away from you!"

 

Joy laughs, stomping hard against the butterflies that still bounce hope in her stomach.

 

Seulgi's still crying even when she's smiling at her.

 

When the shorter girl goes back to curling against her knees, listening to how her sobs crack the quiet evening air, the lamppost shining gold along the contours of her slouched shoulders, Joy thinks it's perfect for a quick snapshot.

 

She plucks her Polaroid out of her purse, remembering how long it has been since she's used it. She needs to add more pictures to her lonely scrapbook – the last image she has being the moment she had captured Seulgi in her headphones beside the window (she had gone to pursue photography professionally, using cameras with much better resolution).

 

Click.

 

Joy hears Seulgi rise up from her poor cave of muffling her despair, listening to the shuttering gears of her Polaroid render the image on her lap.

 

"W-Why did you take a picture?" Seulgi whimpers, and Joy wants to roll her eyes – she hates how her weak voice is cracking the edges of her sturdy guarded heart.

 

"Just because."

 

Seulgi sniffles, curling a strand of loose hair back over her ear.

 

"I... I thought you only take pictures of things you find beautiful."

 

Joy whips her gaze back at her, shocked that she was aware of such a tiny detail.

 

"How'd you know?"

 

"Joohyun unnie. Our coffee talk this morning," Seulgi grins impishly and Joy wants to slap it off – it looks horrible with her pink puffy eyes and red cheeks.

 

Suddenly she wants to ask Joohyun what else they've talked about. Next time.

 

Hopefully she doesn’t make herself bleed to death tonight with her poor sewing skills – _or lack thereof._

 

"True." Joy says, going back to the task at hand, yanking the photo out and waiting for the picture to develop. "You're really ugly when you cry."

 

She hears Seulgi sniff, watching how she brushes an arm along her face again and Joy grimaces at how crude her method is for cleaning up after her tears. Such a kid.

 

"...Then just – just _go._ "

 

Joy merely snaps another picture; one where Seulgi's face isn't hidden beneath her arms – where she can see every minute detail – raw, in pain, and _real._

 

"And leave someone who's ugly enough to be beautiful? Not a chance."

 

"What?"

 

Joy waits until the picture stutters out and grasps the edges, clasping the two photos between her fingers as she shoves her Polaroid back in her purse.

 

She doesn't answer Seulgi's confusion, settling for wiping off tear tracks along her cheeks. Joy masks her act of kindness with rough rubs of her thumb along Seulgi's skin, acting as if she was sick of being patient.

 

Seulgi grimaces under her not so gentle touches, wincing from slight pushes as Joy attempts to clean off the sadness with trickles of frustration coloring her fingers.

 

She wonders if she's being too rough when Seulgi flinches at her final streak, scratching off a new teardrop attempting to fall from her left eye.

 

"Ow... Can't you be a little more gentler?" Seulgi whines, eyes scrunching out of pain but Joy doesn't want to come off as nice.

 

"Can't you be a little less _soft?_ "

 

"Can't I cry sometimes?"

 

Joy scoffs, ridding away the tickle of agreement running about in her chest.

 

"Can't you cry _less?_ " She snaps back hastily, pressing hard against Seulgi's cheek.

 

"Don't _you_ cry?"

 

Joy laughs. "Not always, like you."

 

"I don't _always_ cry..." Seulgi huffs, crossing her arms and Joy ignores how she thinks the shorter girl's pout is cute – _stop it._

 

"Please. You're crying even when you're not."

 

"Why do you say things that don't make sense?"

 

Joy laughs, wiping her wet tear stained hands along her black high waist jeans before standing up. She doesn't want to explain the obvious; Seulgi needs to take steps on her own.

 

When she glances back down, watching a shimmer of new tears cascade along Seulgi's face, Joy wonders if she's being too harsh – expecting things to heal too quickly.

 

Joy ruffles Seulgi's hair, turning her head away when Seulgi looks up at her; she doesn't want the shorter girl to see her cry.

 

"Careful. If you keep crying like a mess you'll just be left with being beautiful."

 

Joy hears Seulgi laugh, a noise so akin to happiness that Joy wonders if she's deluding herself. Seulgi wouldn't be happy about anything except that someone else.

 

"See? You're doing it again – saying things that don't make sense." Seulgi chuckles and Joy wholly agrees.

 

"Trust me, I don't get myself either."

 

Joy still has a list of things she knows aren't worth her time.

 

She just wished Seulgi was still a part of it.

 

"Here," her hands burrow through her purse, pulling her journal out and flipping the pages until she reaches her favorite photo. "You can have this. For inspiration." She passes Seulgi the picture, glancing carefully to see how the shorter girl's eyes widen at the image. "Beautiful, isn't it? And I'm not a stalker, just saying. I happened to be passing by."

 

Joy doesn't wait for her to comment (if she were even going to), marching off, the snow absorbing each nervous step on her trek back home.

 

She hopes Seulgi forgives her for the rough treatment; she's not used to easing tears off someone else's face rather than her own. Her hand isn't used to being gentle – she isn't used to swiping away pain beneath her favorite pair of monolid eyes.

 

Joy's not used to giving away her pictures when images said words she never could.

 

_Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid bear face with her stupid bun hair._

 

She hopes Seulgi goes back to looking happy beside the window with her white headphones again.

 

-

 

Irene hadn't known how to look at Seungwan since.

 

It has already been weeks since that kiss she received when Seungwan thought she was sleeping (she had even forgotten Yerim, and it was February already – time surely goes fast).

 

She _was,_ until Seungwan started reciting lines from Sooyoung's ugly scribbling.

 

Irene had been too tired to bother rising up, her back already aching from hunching over the desk to sew the dress; she didn't want to move anymore.

 

It didn't help that it felt like a dream, like she was hearing Seungwan's voice even in her slumber, her eyes refusing to crack open.

 

But then suddenly she felt warmth linger against her cheek, heating up from a touch too soft to be the skin along Seungwan's fingers.

 

Her assumption was right when Irene felt her breathe; she knew then what Seungwan had done.

 

There were too many “Why's” dancing around in her head when her mark lingered even when she heard the chair next to her squeak out Seungwan's position.

 

She had kissed her and it made Irene's chest play an all too familiar beat of rapid pounding that had always been for Yerim.

 

_"You still love her, don't you?"_

 

The “Why's” seemed to multiply, bouncing against every nook and cranny of her head, like it didn't want to stop reminding her.

 

Ever since that evening, images Irene thought to originally be innocent displays of friendly affection seemed too intimate to be just that.

 

The way Seungwan would brush her hair back when she clearly had hands of her own – how her touches lingered even after it was done.

 

Had Seungwan always looked at her like that? Like... she wasn't sure _what_ kind of like, but it was certainly _something._

 

Irene suddenly found herself observing more – paying attention to every detail, whether it be in the way Seungwan fidgeted with the hem of her shirts to the tiny lip bites she makes out of nerves or frustration.

 

But most of all, she paid attention to herself.

 

_Irene remembers yesterday, how she had found Seungwan in the kitchen, humming a song as she catered to the frying pan._

_Her roommate seemed oblivious and so was she when her feet moved to settle behind Seungwan, propping her chin atop the shorter girl's shoulder._

_"J-Joohyun?"_

_Irene became more observant, sure, but paid a price with the controls of her limbs._

_She wanted to hold her, wrap her arms around her and snuggle into her warmth; meld heat between their bodies like they usually do every night when they're in bed together._

_But there was an unspoken rule that rose along with the sun every morning – that their intimacy between the sheets shouldn't be present during daylight._

_It seemed that they had mutually agreed to pretending like they weren't playing with the thin line between friendship and something more, pretending like they weren't spending each night way past simple camaraderie._

_They were playing a game where they entertained the best of both worlds, but suddenly Irene wanted one more than the other._

_"It smells good, you're making me hungry." Irene said, taking reign over her hands so they clutched the edges of the counter top and not somewhere else._

_She had been all too aware of the fact that she had trapped Seungwan between her arms, even when she wasn't touching her._

_"Oh, okay. It's almost done so hold on just a little longer." Seungwan chirped, expertly swirling the contents of fried vegetables and meat._

_Irene wondered how Seungwan's sing-song voice could make her stomach churn more, her nails digging deeper against solid surface; she could feel Seungwan's heat tempt her hands for a touch._

_It didn't help when she could smell tinges of peach and strawberries, shifting closer until her nose grazed against the skin of Seungwan's neck._

_"Hyun?"_

_She wondered if Seungwan had casted some sort of dizzying spell for the way she craved to hold her, fists tightening against the sturdy countertop._

_"...Hm?" Irene breathed her in, suddenly intoxicated with strawberries and peach._

_"Is something wrong?"_

_Irene felt her brows narrow, not understanding her question until she felt soft fingers curl over her hands, encouraging them to loosen their titan clutch._

_Her touch snapped her back out of dreamy memories of holding Seungwan at night._

_"O-Oh – um, sorry, it's nothing."_

_Irene hadn't meant to stutter, but the way Seungwan turned her head to look at her had frozen her lips and she had been forced to make due._

_"Are you sure?"_

_Her body was finally listening to her, waving a dismissive hand as she stepped back, making room to breathe._

_"Yeah, just – you know, really hungry." Irene attempted to mask the way her fingers trembled for Seungwan, combing back her hair. "Right, anyway. I just – I have to go check on something. Be right back."_

_She had spun around and marched straight to her respective room before Seungwan could question her stumbling tongue._

Her lack of control has been going on for far too long lately. It's terrifying.

 

What if she does something Seungwan doesn't want? And what about Yerim?

 

"I've been meaning to ask, why doesn't your roommate call you 'unnie'?"

 

Irene spits her drink, splattering water all over the younger girl's face.

 

Sooyoung looks scorned, disgusted, betrayed, and amused, all at once.

 

"First of all, I'm glad to add something new to my long growing list of things I can tease you with. Second, thank Satan it's not hot coffee or I would've thrown mine at you too. And thirdly, if you wanted to put saliva all over me you could've just leaned over and kissed me—"

 

Irene leans over as she's told, gripping hard on a pile of napkins beside her. She sees Sooyoung's eyes widen at her movement, red flush rising quickly up her neck and Irene smirks at how she swallows.

 

"W-Wait, unnie I-I was just kidd—"

 

She slaps a bundle of napkins on her face before sitting back down on her seat, a grin plastering the edges of her lips.

 

Sooyung whines as she dabs at her face with tissues, peeking out between white napkins to glare at her.

 

"Don't play with an innocent maiden's heart, unnie."

 

She scoffs in response, bewildered at her implication of being pure – Sooyoung was far from the word.

 

Irene waits for Sooyoung to clean up, lending a hand when she misses a spot just below her chin.

 

"Unnie?" Irene recognizes the slight tinge of vulnerability painting Sooyoung's voice, a rare occurrence that it freezes her hand to still below her jaw. "I wish I had a crush on you instead,"

 

Sooyoung's wistful smile breaks the strong image Irene's so used to associating her with, how her eyes carry sorrow like it was its color.

 

Irene attempts to ease her troubles away, swiping steady fingers along the contours of Sooyoung's chin. Her voice plays as pillar of support, letting herself sound confident because Sooyoung suddenly isn't.

 

"So you could tease me even more as declarations of love? Don’t you do that already?" Irene jokes tenderly, trying to lighten the heavy tension she sees in Sooyoung's expression.

 

Sooyoung sends her a scoff and wry smile. "True, but also because I'd rather like someone who's worth it."

 

"Seulgi's not worth it?"

 

Irene watches Sooyoung keep mum, the question drawing watercolors of hesitation over the younger girl's eyes.

 

The silence sits in, letting the girl delve into her thoughts as Irene wipes off the specks of water from the table; recalling Sooyoung's innocent question.

 

"I've gotten used to hearing her call me without it," she says, hoping her half white lie makes it past Sooyoung's sharp mind. "That's why."

 

Irene pretends it's not mostly because Seungwan's call once before had her on wobbly legs with a stopping heart.

 

The way her tongue curled over the simple title, _"Unnie,"_ when she was busy ironing had Irene flushing with goose bumps (and nearly burned off her entire hand).

 

It was odd how Seungwan managed to make it sound both excruciatingly enticing and delightfully sinful at the same time.

 

Irene treasured her poor fingers, weak knees, and a fragile rib cage, so she put a stop to Seungwan's horrible slander of _"Unnie,"_ before it could get any worse.

 

She didn't want to be mere putty in her hands.

 

"Unnie?"

 

_Damn it,_

 

"Can you please not saw off the table with your scrubbing? I need it to hold my croissant."

 

Irene sighs, balling up the wet napkins into creases before walking up to discard them.

 

She needs to relax.

 

Her fingers instinctively burrow into her coat pocket when she feels her phone's vibration. The skin along her cheeks immediately burn pink at the caller ID:

 

‘Home’.

 

Maybe she should rethink the name (it was sort of embarrassing) but knows she won't when no one else would see it anyway.

 

"Wan?"

 

_"Hey,"_

 

Irene dunks the balls of drenched tissues before signaling to Sooyoung that she'd be outside.

 

She smiles at the younger girl's shooing wave, stepping out just outside of the café to lean against the rainbow-grey-city painting.

 

"What's up?"

 

Shuffling distorts ring against her ear, sounds of crunching plastic whistling through the phone.

 

 _"Oh, just um – hold on,"_ Irene does as she's told, vaguely curious of the ruckus, brows rising up at her annoyed growls. _"Just – there. Okay, now, where was I?"_

 

Chuckles escape Irene's lips, amused at the various frustrated grunts she's heard from Seungwan's mouth.

 

"What are you doing, Wan?"

 

 _"Oh, right!"_ Seungwan's happy chirp soothes a growing ember in Irene's chest, feeling warm under her silk voice; she's thankful to hear it whisper "Goodnight," before bed. _"Um, I'll be sleeping over at Seul's tonight – will you be okay without me?"_

 

Irene's suddenly choking out air, coughing out oxygen quickly depleting from her lungs, squeezing out like a squished balloon.

 

What?

_"A-Are you okay, Hyun? What's wrong?"_

 

She's shaking her head to quell the worry in Seungwan's voice, temporarily forgetting she can't see her until her roommate continues to probe.

 

"I-I'm fine," Irene coughs out, clearing her throat. "Sorry, I just choked on my drink."

 

That was true, before.

 

Seungwan's relief reaches to cradle her ear.

 

_"Oh. Just be careful, okay? I'll see you tomorrow, so don't stay up too late. Try to sleep early, okay? And eat properly."_

 

Irene's about to retort, whine "I'm older than you," but it falls behind her teeth, merely letting Seungwan go on her rant about the foods stuffed in the refrigerator, the primary exits in case something happens, and that she'd be back before evening the next day.

 

She listens to her velvet voice, how it carries hints of anxiety when she mentions safety and precautions, before it tilts to concern under syllables of food stock and listing the items that aren't there.

 

Irene wants to ease the worry still painting Seungwan's voice with every word spilling her lips, crawling into her ear that doesn't get sick of listening to her. But she doesn't want Seungwan to stop talking.

 

She wants to hear her more.

 

_"Did you get all those down, Hyun?"_

 

Irene pretends she doesn't remember to always make sure the door is locked, to check that the stove is off, to see that the lights aren't on, that she couldn't skip breakfast (because it was the most important meal of the day), and that she should keep warm because it was still cold out (and never forget her gloves and scarf – and preferably with a hat on too but that was optional).

 

"... Nope."

 

Seungwan's whine is cute and long, how it drawls off to make the guilt press along her chest and Irene is tempted to tell her the truth – that she's heard every single word; that she had her instructions on how to use a fire extinguisher on loop.

 

Irene doesn't want to say goodbye (even when she knows it's merely for one night – it was just a sleepover; _stop being dramatic_ ). She’s being childish.

 

She ends Seungwan's misery with a request.

 

"Can I hear your 'goodnight', then?" Irene attempts to keep her voice from quaking, her fingers trembling to keep the phone up against her ear. "Since you won't be home."

 

She wonders if she's being clingy – was she asking for too much?

 

Seungwan's laughter is twinkling.

 

 _"It's too early for a goodnight, Hyun."_ Irene feels crippling disappointment line along the edges of her mouth, uncurling her smile. _"How about later? So when I call, you'll be forced to sleep then."_

 

Irene loves the idea.

 

"Will you promise me that?" She asks out of fun, encouraging Seungwan to talk more – to not let this conversation end; _no, not yet._

 

Seungwan's giggles spark a smile back on Irene's face as quick as it had left.

 

_"I promise."_

Irene gets back to a quiet apartment.

 

The lights are out, the rooms are empty, and the apron is hanging off the hook beside the refrigerator.

 

Her fingers glide along the strings of Seungwan’s guitar, perched carefully in its rack, allowing the distorted mesh of noise to fill the silent air that Irene’s not used to.

 

She spots the fluffy teddy bear sitting alone on the couch, her furrowed brows making creases on her forehead at the blue sticky note attached to the strap of its fixed blue dress.

 

_“In case you get too lonely. It’s cuddly to hug, I promise! Wait for my goodnight before you sleep, okay?”_

_– Wan_

Irene settles beside the toy, wrapping her arms around the plushy and snuggling close – it smelled of her newly bought fabric softener.

 

“Looks like it’ll just be me and you tonight,” she laughs, rubbing its head.

 

Irene waits for her goodnight.

 

-

 

It’s February 10.

 

Wendy remembers having woken up to an alert on her phone, notifying her that it was Seulgi's birthday.

 

She kept opening the calendar even when she was at work, storming up ideas of what to get for her special day; nothing seemed to fit – not a stuffed animal, a cake, or treating her out for a movie.

 

Wendy wants to make up for their broken friendship (or so it looks to _her_ ) considering Seulgi still pretends like they're okay.

 

_“So can't I keep pretending? Just for a little longer – until I'm not anymore?”_

 

But was that the right thing to do?

 

Somehow, as she bids her coworker goodbye, hiding in the warmth of her blue jacket and stepping out onto the evening snow, Wendy can't tell if it is (even when it has been weeks since).

 

But she did what Seulgi asked, going along to their mute scripted play, pretending she's not bothered that they're pretending to be happy despite knowing what they had once been – that they could've been _more._

 

She readjusts the straps of her backpack, the muffled squeaking of plastic looping along her ears with every crunching step of her boots against cold white.

 

 _"Why don't I drop you off there?"_ _Joohyun's voice cradles her vision, remembering her roommate's masked concern under stiff nonchalance._

 

_"Her house is close to where I work," she had said then, stuffing her clothes into a plastic bag before shoving it into her backpack. "You'd be wasting gas, so don't worry about it."_

_"That doesn't matter. When do you get off? I'll pick you up."_

_Wendy both cherished and despised Joohyun's tenacity (she hated it – how could she handle leaving her for one night if she gave Joohyun the opportunity to see her before she could? She'd never want to leave)_

_"Joohyun. Really. I'll be fine –"_

_"No. Just let me—"_

_"— I won't bake you carrot muffins anymore if you do."_

_"... Fine."_

She lets the scent memory of Joohyun's vanilla and lavender tuck her in its safety embrace as she knocks on Seulgi's door.

 

"Oh hey!" Seulgi greets, grinning from ear to ear as she moves aside, her slippers a cute pair of fluffy bear faces. "So what's the occasion?" Her brows make waves over her expression, Cheshire pearly whites coloring her lips.

 

Wendy shoves her playfully, smiling at the laughter erupting from Seulgi's mouth at her own poor joke.

 

"Har har, I already greeted you remember?" Wendy huffs, recalling her morning call to her several hours ago, scowling at Seulgi's impish grin. "Now how about you help me put my stuff up in your room so we don't have to let the cold air in anymore?"

 

Seulgi obliges, dropping a set of blue slippers with adorable faces plastered on them like her own as she shuts the door behind them.

 

Wendy crouches down, curious of the adorable cartoon expressions.

 

"Are these new?" Wendy asks, unable to recall seeing this particular pair of slippers back when their sleepovers were consistently 4 days straight per week, the cycle broken when she had moved into the apartment on 34th street.

 

Seulgi hums. "Yeah, but I honestly can't figure out what animal it's supposed to be."

 

"The cashier didn't know?"

 

"I asked most of the people who worked there – they couldn't decide between a hamster or a chipmunk."

 

Wendy giggles at Seulgi's lost look, how hard she seems to be pondering over a silly thing like an animal's cartoony face before slipping them on, the skin on her feet appreciating the soft cotton warmth.

 

Seulgi takes her backpack for her, strapping it over her shoulder before she ushers her up the stairs.

 

“It’s been awhile,” Wendy muses absently, staring at the family portraits covering the walls of the living room.

 

“Yup.” Seulgi says simply, gently guiding her with a nudge on her back.

 

Wendy passes by a portrait that has her in it, not recognizing the giant smile she wears on her lips – so akin to Seulgi’s mega-watt grin.

 

She doesn’t remember it.

 

The evening goes by in clouds of friendship and simple talk _(“Where’s your family?” “Went to support my brother’s debate competition over on the other side of the world – I still have school so I couldn’t go.” “Oh.”_ ), how their play sometimes feel like they're not pretending anymore, where they'd giggle over a drama's horrible plot twist to getting flustered at a couple's sweet kiss.

 

Wendy misses this airy comfort that lacked all their troubles and hid them away for as long as it was possible, dreading the time when this soothing fog is replaced with tensing knowledge of being aware that there was still words that weren't said.

 

Things would be easier if she was just Wendy.

 

"Why are you here, _really?_ " Seulgi asks when they're in bed together amidst the haze of flitting through channels for a new show to watch.  

 

Her question comes as a surprise, yet not.

 

Wendy fidgets with the ends of her navy blue sweater, nudging gently against Seulgi's elbow with her own. Her voice sounds small but eerily loud despite the ruckus of the television, eyeing the invisible lint on her sleeves.

 

"I... I couldn't spend most of today with you, so the least I could do was be yours for tonight."

 

It was true.

 

Most kids were preparing for their upcoming spring concerts and so more classes were offered for additional practices, whether it was vocally or with instruments. Today her schedule had been fully booked.

 

"Wen..."

 

Wendy bites on her lip, unsure of whether she was allowed to hold Seulgi's hand (wouldn't she be making it harder for her?) so she settles for bumping her elbow again instead, a nervous smile crawling along her mouth.

 

"Happy birthday, Seul."

 

It was all she could give her. _Yet it doesn’t feel enough._

 

Seulgi looks like she's trying to convince herself that she was a dream.

 

Wendy brushes away locks of ebony so similar to Joohyun's, curling it behind Seulgi's ear to see eyes that carry too much. She wants to wash away the doubt – the hesitation that seems to be stuck behind pools of deep brown, as if she couldn’t believe that she was actually here. _With her._

 

"I'm here, Seul."

 

_I'm here._

 

And suddenly Seulgi is kissing her, the taste of her orange chapstick coloring her gasp to muffle behind her lips, taking Wendy's voice along with it.

 

She lets Seulgi guide her, the taller girl's hand curling beneath her chin, urging Wendy to lie on her back, cushioning gently between the soft mattress and Seulgi's body heat.

 

Her eyes have instinctively shut at Seulgi's roaming free hand, how her fingers play with the hem of her navy hoodie, Seulgi's touch fiery against her stomach. Wendy clutches her shoulders, clamping nails down as Seulgi draws her patient confession along her mouth, filling Wendy's lungs with words she should know but never remembered ( _“I love you. I love you. I love you.”_ )

 

Wendy can't help but groan under Seulgi's bite on her bottom lip, how it gets trapped between Seulgi's teeth before her tongue swipes at the indents she's made.

 

Seulgi's touch is stifling.

 

"You can't do this to me," Seulgi is pleading, her words hot on Wendy's lips. "...You shouldn't be doing this to me." Wendy hears how she begs, tracing her fear along her mouth before Seulgi is kissing down to the lines of her neck. "Please don't do this to me, Wendy..."

 

Wendy can't speak when her lungs tell her there's nothing to say, how air escapes her as fast as Seulgi torches her with a lit match for fingertips.

 

She’s not Wendy.

 

"Don't tell me to love you tonight if I can't love you tomorrow."

 

Seulgi's scorching marks along her side – over her stomach, to the buttons of her white-washed jeans.

 

Wendy doesn't know why she's not stopping her when she can hear the dragging sound of her zipper, Seulgi's tongue incinerating the skin where her pulse is the loudest. It makes her mewl her name, _"Seulgi..."_ arching closer at every touch along her thighs until her jeans slip past her feet.

 

Seulgi's head rises back from her neck to kiss her lips, as if to feel her deeper – _longer,_ the taller girl's smile drawing hotly against her mouth.

 

And then Seulgi shoved her off the bed.

 

"Ow!" Wendy yelps, rubbing at her arm that had cushioned her fall. "What was _that_ for?!"

 

She rises on wobbly legs, spotting a candid photo of Seulgi beside a window with white headphones over her head, squeezed into the crook of her vanity mirror.

 

Seulgi doesn’t answer her question.

 

"Put on some pyjamas because we are going to just cuddle and talk about _anything_ and _everything,_ ignoring that horrible underwear you're wearing."

 

Wendy doesn't feel embarrassed despite her nitpicking, observing the way Seulgi's face is flushed, heat coloring her cheeks red. But her eyes are telling her that's as far as they'll go – no questions asked.

 

When she dresses into the clothes she's packed for herself, watching how Seulgi turns away, fiddling with the material of her blanket, Wendy wonders what she had just done and why she had done it – _and why she had let it happen._

 

"You finished? I'm getting sleepy."

 

Wendy ignores the pout she hears in Seulgi's voice, both fascinated and relieved of how easy it seems to flutter back and forth, pretending they hadn't just –

 

"Okay I can't ignore it. Why an ugly brown underwear, Wen-Wen? That's _hideous!_ "

 

– Yeah. She loved how they went right back to being normal.

 

"Anyways," Wendy attempts to dodge the question, shuffling under the sheets with Seulgi (she doesn't see what the big deal is; it's just a color). "You said anything and everything, right?"

 

Seulgi nods, snuggling under the covers.

 

Wendy stares at the way Seulgi looks at her, wondering if the words she had said before, _"Like a love letter,"_ were meant for herself instead.

 

She can still taste orange on her lips.

 

"Can you tell me about her?" The confusion is obvious on Seulgi's face, how her brows scrunch up, feeling lost. "About Wendy?" Wendy asks, pressing a finger down on the space between fuzzy eyebrows, easing the crinkles on Seulgi’s skin. "...What was I like?"

 

Wendy thought she had seen all of Seulgi's radiant smiles, but they were nothing compared to this.

 

Happiness flutters from her eyes and her lips, lining each syllable of words that bounce between her teeth. Seulgi's even grasping her hand, her gestures flailing and animated and terrifyingly _hopeful._

 

She listens about someone who isn't her – who she used to be, wondering if it's okay to pursue this familiarity when her fingers attempt to reach for the modern hourglass tied to her wrist.

 

Seulgi pokes her cheek.

 

"You were such a tease, you know? Being all mean to me,"

 

She laughs, swatting Seulgi's hand away, before snuggling into her arms, enjoying this simple comfort that she had somehow forgotten was always there.

 

Seulgi continues with her story – _their story,_ going on about how she had bought her the blue dress; that Tae-Tae was the one who got her the teddy bear.

 

And to think Joohyun was the one who took care of it.

 

She can feel her fingers slide against the glass (no wonder Taeyeon was so clingy towards her), attempting not to tap numbers along even when the scent of coconut contouring Seulgi's neck pressures thoughts around her brain.

 

Wendy tries not to count the past away.

_"What happened to lesson 1?"_

 

She wants to hide. It's scary knowing how she still doesn't remember anything.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _three,_

 

She's grateful for all the times she's done her part in their friendship play, inwardly thankful that Seulgi had asked her to pretend.

 

And so she does.

 

Wendy fools Seulgi with her practiced smile and rehearsed giggles that she's learned from their scripts, forgetting that she had promised Joohyun her goodnight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, now we all know Joy’s perspective on things. I hope it clears most questions that you may have with her.
> 
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> 
> Thank you for reading, for all the upvotes, and for the comments.
> 
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> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update – until next time.


	10. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene's used to not sleeping.

Irene's used to not sleeping.

 

When the clock ticks by above the refrigerator, the hands telling her it's 12:55 AM, Irene goes back to clacking fingers away on her laptop.

 

She should be accustomed to losing sleep – she had been for the past year (almost two, now); what was a measly one evening?

 

Irene clucks her tongue at the gibberish she's typed up in a word document that has nothing important, the mixtures of letters that don't spell out any comprehensive word bothering her slightly – it was an obvious sign that she misses the noise.

 

She's supposed to be used to a quiet apartment (her former roommate was barely present except for the nights she had her bed partners over), but it's irksome to not hear the clicks of the door lock or the ticks of a wristwatch.

 

It bothers her how spending a few months with Seungwan makes her so attached to things normally not found to be charmingly endearing.

 

Irene taps away the silence, watching sentences of things made up of letters and numbers form paragraphs to steer away the fact that the quiet reminds her of Seungwan. Her eyes flit to her cellphone just beside her, dismayed at the lack of a notification.

 

Irene pretends it doesn't bother her that Seungwan forgot. It shouldn't really matter anyway – _it's just a goodnight, don't be dramatic._

 

But her fingers ache to touch her: to hold her and drown around warmth that helped her sleep at night. Seungwan had replaced nightmares for dreams where eye bags didn’t lurk against her skin anymore. Had she always been this dependent?

 

Irene's supposed to be used to not sleeping. What’s wrong with her?

 

Her eyes take note of the time on the screen – it's almost 1 AM, before glancing back at her silent phone.

 

It's okay, she thinks. She forgets things too. Besides, it's not like it was important. Really. Irene’s heard it plenty of nights before; how Seungwan's tongue would curl along each syllable before she's pressing against her, wrapped up beneath the sheets and in her arms, mumbling along her skin “Goodnight,” before tapping noises away on her back. Irene remembers counting in her head the number Seungwan always ended at – 43.

 

Her fingers twitch at the memory; it’s almost like Seungwan’s tapping digits away with how her back feels like it’s tingling under memory hands.

 

_Clack clack clack clack clack clack._

 

She needs a distraction.

 

“Are you bored too?”

 

Irene glances at the bear seated next to her, its beady black eyes motionless – typical of a stuffed animal. Her eyes catch the clock on her laptop screen, 1:00 AM.

 

Silence is the closest she’s got to an approval.

 

“Same.” Wry laughter spills between her lips, patting its soft furry head. “Want to clean with me?”

 

She rises on tired legs that have gotten sick of sitting around waiting for a voice she’s used to hearing every night, plucking the bear off its chair and carrying it over her shoulders. Irene feels a smile come along at the pressure of soft fur against her head, closing her laptop shut before sauntering over to her room.

 

There was no use feeling down about it. After all, it was better to use disappointment as an energy source for productivity than letting it turn her into a motionless sack of a ragdoll (Irene admits she’s disappointed, but with acknowledgement comes getting over it – this shouldn’t be any different).

 

Once she’s set the bear on a stool near her vanity mirror, Irene goes about cleaning her room. Textbooks and notebooks take up shelves along the wall, scattered papers crumpled and torn get thrown into the trash bin beside the door, and clothes that have only been worn once get folded and set aside on her study desk.

 

The bed gets made so it’s finally presentable, keeping in mind that Seungwan might wander off into her room again to sleep (Seungwan was probably too shy to wake her up or something).

 

Gathering the laundry basket and hanging the bear against her shoulders again, Irene goes to fetch Seungwan’s batch of dirty clothes too, knowing that the sound of a washing machine and dryer would be perfect noises to keep her company throughout the night. The smell of clean laundry was always a plus anyway.

 

Her fingers don’t forget to take her phone with her.

 

“Ready to watch clothes roll around to get cleaned?” She asks the bear, keeping a steady hand against its back so it wouldn’t fall, well too aware that she’s been talking to a stuffed animal. “Yeah? Me too.”

 

She’s about to head downstairs of their apartment when her pocket vibrates and it startles her hand into digging through, fumbling for the bear to stay latched onto her neck at the same time. Irene doesn’t read the caller ID, her head already registering the one call she’s been expecting when she taps the answer button.

 

“Hello?”

 

There’s a certain happy chirp to her voice; she wonders if Seungwan could hear it. Irene’s sort of embarrassed about it – she’s not supposed to be this easy to read; since when did she become this excited jumble of goo?

 

_“Irene unnie?”_

 

She almost chokes out of surprise, coughing it out instead and readjusting her hold on her phone.

 

“Yerim? Is something wrong?”

 

Irene makes careful steps down the flight of stairs, keeping the bear steady on her shoulders and the basket pressed against her stomach. She can’t believe she had been quick to assume that it was Seungwan – a phone call was open to anyone.

 

 _“Oh n-no, I just…”_ she hears crackles of shuffling paper, taking note of Yerim’s odd stutter. Was she nervous? _“… I just thought you’d be asleep already.”_

 

Curiosity crawls along her mind as she sets the basket down before leaning against a table with Seungwan’s teddy bear idling beside her. Her fingers comb along its furry white head.

 

“Why?”

 

Yerim giggles.

 

_“It’s already 1 in the morning, unnie.”_

 

“Oh.” She didn’t think time would move so slowly – it was oddly faster when Seungwan was around. “Then shouldn’t you be asleep already?”

 

_“I… I can’t.”_

 

A frown already lines her lips, brows quick to furrow at Yerim’s nervous voice. She’s not used to hearing Yerim sound so unsure – so lost.

 

“What? Why? Is there something I could—”

 

_“I just wanted to hear your voice.”_

 

Her mouth freezes at Yerim’s tiny whisper, like she was embarrassed to say it out loud. It wouldn’t surprise her though. Even when they were dating Yerim wasn’t the type to tell her how she felt. Not with words anyway, and neither was Irene herself.

 

_“You didn’t pick up before, so I thought it’d be the same today too…”_

 

Right, Yerim had called before on that same night Seungwan had kissed her when she thought she was asleep. But she had been so distracted by her roommate’s behavior that she had forgotten to give Yerim a call back to ask what she needed.

 

Irene feels horrible, combing back her hair, sighing with an apology dancing along her tongue. Yerim shouldn't have to settle for just hearing her voicemail.

 

“I’m sorry, I was asleep then and—”

 

 _“I know.”_ Yerim sounds like she’s twiddling with some sort of cloth – maybe her pillow with the way it shuffles through the receiver. _“I was counting on it.”_

 

Irene stares up at the dark brown stain that had been stuck onto the ceiling ever since she started living here, a puzzle of “Why’s” trickling along her mouth at Yerim’s words but not one of them comes out. She still remembers how she had told Yerim to call her whenever she needed her – even if it was just to hear her voice.

 

“Then I guess you get to hear a different message from me so early in the morning, hm?”

 

Yerim’s giggles are happy and light, like relief bleeds between her teeth and a weight is off her shoulders that Irene can’t help but feel just as free too.

 

_“I guess so, unnie.”_

 

They talk about what they used to do together: they share memories of holding hands, walking through the rain, sharing coffee kisses with red lipstick, and combing hands through each other’s hair, that Irene’s surprised it doesn’t hurt to think about them as much anymore – that it doesn’t hurt to hear about how much they used to work.

 

At least, not compared to how it hurts to not hear from home.

 

Was Seungwan sleeping well? Did she at least eat dinner? What if she was having a nightmare? What if she needed to count the noises away and her watch wasn’t enough? Seulgi would be there though. Irene was sure Seulgi could help; Seulgi would know what to do, wouldn’t she? But what if it was really bad? Damn it, she wouldn’t be there to—

 

_“Who is it?”_

 

Irene’s startled by the question, her mind hasty to wipe away clouds of Seungwan, her lips quick to answer.

 

“What?”

 

_“The one who makes you think about them even when I’m still here.”_

 

Yerim’s voice gives nothing away even when she’s made a mark right on the center; almost like she’s known all along and it tugs at her chest that Yerim would know something she doesn’t.

 

“No it’s nothing, it’s just…” Irene’s well aware of Yerim’s innate ability to read her – the younger girl just seemed to know how she worked. “…I’m worried if Seungwan could handle herself.”

 

Yerim’s silence unnerves her; she wonders if she’s said something wrong. She was genuinely concerned for her roommate – was that bad?

 

_“She’s a grown woman, Irene unnie. I’m sure she can take care of herself.”_

 

“I know. I mean, it’s just a sleepover, but we haven’t spent a night without each other before and I’m worried that—”

 

_“Unnie?”_

 

Irene attempts to adjust to Yerim’s abrupt change in tone, almost wistful. Like she was smiling over the phone but there was a tinge of sadness that managed to carry over too.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Yerim’s whisper is so soft even when the phone is right against her ear and the washing machine has yet to start; she hasn’t begun doing the laundry yet.

 

_“You make it sound like you can’t live without her.”_

 

At best, words made dents against her skin so they’d tingle, but this made her lose her balance against the table, stumbling sideways and fumbling over the phone so it wouldn’t drop. The bear had fallen from her stuttered movements, picking it up to dust off the dirt that managed to latch onto its white fur.

 

Her chest is annoyingly loud in her ears, her ribcage rattling from each pounding beat; her bones under tremors from Yerim’s words that sound like a truth Irene had yet to know.

 

And now she does and it makes her vision go blue: the color of Seungwan’s roommate ‘couple-shirt’, the apron she wears every time she's in the kitchen, the curtain in their bathroom that Seungwan adores so much, the sheets that keep them warm at night, and the blue dress she had fixed for Seungwan’s fluffy, white, teddy bear.

 

"I - wha, no that's not—"

 

_"I'm just kidding, unnie."_

 

Yerim's giggles sound delicate despite her words, almost like she was trembling to keep herself together. Guilt eats at Irene's tongue, forming syllables already even when her mind hasn't made up what to say.

 

"Yerim—"

 

_"Why did you fall in love with me?"_

 

Irene has to juggle her phone again, winded by her blunt question, breathing in relief when it doesn't meet the floor like her jaw does. Yerim had always been the type to dart around left and right with her topics of conversation. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise.

 

"I don't know why..." She starts, her voice going quieter, shy for needing to leap back in her memories of a time she had been painfully happy. "I just knew that I did by how you reeked of coffee every single time I saw you and I still wanted to kiss you."

 

Yeri's laughter is bright and happy; something that sounds so rare from the younger girl lately and Irene is relieved to hear it again.

 

_"Remember how we went shopping for lipstick?"_

 

Irene remembers. There were too many to count but she knew well enough which in particular Yerim was referring to. Especially when her voice went just a dip lower, almost hushed like it was a secret.

 

Irene hums in response, her "Mhm," breaking along a short silence before Yerim is speaking again.

 

_"I wanted you to kiss me for every shade of lipstick I made you wear."_

 

She remembers having tried on 16 different shades; not one of them being “Up to par,” as Yerim had claimed. But why was she telling her this now?

 

Irene is about to ask, call out why Yerim suddenly sounded like she was missing what they had been when Yerim maneuvers out of it much like how she made it look so easy to leave her a year ago.

 

_"It's getting late, unnie. Go sleep, okay?"_

 

And just like always, Irene can’t help but listen.

 

"You too. It's way past your bedtime."

 

Yeri's yawn makes her smile. She hears what should've been Seungwan's words instead.

 

_"Goodnight, Irene unnie."_

 

"Goodnight Yerim."

 

When she clicks her phone shut, noting the time to only be 1:40 AM, Irene goes back to her original plan of doing the laundry.

 

She's supposed to be used to not sleeping. This shouldn't be any different.

 

This won't be any different.

 

But as Irene settles next to the fluffy white bear, combing its soft fur, watching time tick by on her phone as the sound of tumbling laundry keeps her company, she knows she's not fooling anyone – especially not herself.

 

-

 

Wendy's not used to waking up without that signature scent of vanilla and lavender.

 

It takes a moment for her to realize it's coconut, sweet and soft, much like the arms that are secured around her. Whiffs of orange filter through the closer she gets, snuggling deeper – attempting to find what she's so used to waking up to in the morning.

 

"Are you trying to burrow a hole, Wen?"

 

Seulgi's voice is feather light, covered under mists of a groggy morning, how her tone carries raspy giggles. Wendy's all too aware of the difference for this particular morning.

 

With Joohyun, it always had a lingering air of awkward intimacy even when they've been living together for so long; something so palpable underneath their muted touches that most times, it felt like all they were missing was a good morning kiss (which Wendy would always give as long as Joohyun was asleep – to her forehead or cheek of course). Wendy always pretended not to see how Joohyun sometimes looked like she would.

 

But with Seulgi, even if it had been months since their last sleepover together, familiarity colored their every movement. Even now, Wendy can tell how it feels like nothing's changed – that Seulgi's arms along her waist feels as comfortable as it had been the last time they were like this. How Seulgi's fingers comb across her hair – even how it was done, there was a subtle difference.

 

Seulgi's fingers caressed her like she finally found her. Joohyun's felt like they were lost _because_ of her.

 

How could that be?

 

“Still sleepy?”

 

Wendy only nods to Seulgi’s gentle hand, how it curls behind her ear and flutters fingers through her locks, cuddling closer so her nose is cradled against Seulgi’s neck. It’s soothing – she swears she could fall asleep again to her touch.

 

“What time is it?” She mutters against Seulgi’s skin, tired eyes keeping closed because the warmth is just so much more comfortable to stay in.

 

“It’s almost 1 in the afternoon.”

 

That made her jump, startled at how late it was already – was she that exhausted? Did they really sleep that late? What about breakfast? Lunch?

 

“Did you eat already?” Wendy asks hurriedly, already attempting to slip out of the bed to make food – how could she have missed such an important meal of the day?

 

Seulgi’s hand clutches her wrist, feeling her pull her back gently.

 

“No, but I _did_ try to make food…”

 

Wendy could’ve sworn her eyes had fallen out if it weren’t for the fact that she could still see Seulgi and that nervous smile she had on her face. She was just about to ask her if she had burned down the kitchen when Seulgi laughs at her like her expression told her a joke.

 

“They actually don’t taste that bad.” Seulgi attempts to reassure her.

 

She feels skeptical, especially when Seulgi places a tray on her lap with a plate filled with oddly shaped…things. Wendy pokes at a lump with a fork, scrutinizing its texture.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Pancakes.”

 

That would explain the softness. It also gives its weird shapes some loose judgment since pancakes don’t _have_ to have a certain structure. Despite the logic playing in her head, Wendy still hesitates when Seulgi pours syrup over the lumps of ‘pancakes’.

 

“Ready?”

 

Wendy’s not sure if she will ever be (she remembers how much of a disaster Seulgi was in the kitchen – a reason that made her so used to being there that it carried over for Joohyun too) and somehow, deep down, she has this gnawing feeling in her gut that Seulgi knows exactly what she’s doing, especially since she has on this teasing grin with eyes that practically sparkled in amused anticipation.

 

Breathing in, Wendy pops a tiny piece into her mouth, chewing slowly in case there were any surprises. Her brows gradually loosened their crinkles, her face relaxing out of relief that _yes,_ it was edible; and it actually wasn’t that bad.

 

“Told you!” Seulgi happily grins beside her, nudging her side.

 

Wendy elbows her back, a proud smile climbing along her lips.

 

They eat together, the oddly shaped pancakes no longer feeling weird to look at. It seemed to carry a charm only Seulgi had and it was cute the more Wendy stared at it.

 

“Nice to have brunch once in awhile, huh?” Seulgi says, as if thinking out loud and Wendy is reminded of Joohyun.

 

She remembers how they had eaten like this before, in bed, with scrambled eggs and toast. Now she’s here, with Seulgi, and the difference makes her think – makes her realize how they’re so similar yet so contrasting.

 

Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? That she’s – that _Wendy,_ is supposed to be right here, next to Seulgi? They didn’t need to pretend to be friends when they could be something more – when that was what they were supposed to be, _all along._

 

Her fingers automatically search for the anchor on her wrist.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _three,_

 

That’s right. This is how it’s supposed to be – no Joohyun.

 

“I want to make up for all the lost time we've had when I forgot how much I loved you.”

 

“I – what?”

 

Seulgi looks like she’s about to topple over the tray if it wasn’t for Wendy’s hand gripping hard against the latch, her skin going white.

 

This is how it should be, she thinks again – no Joohyun.

 

Wendy knows it’s sudden, but the words continue to spill from her lips. She can’t take them back – she _won’t,_ not when this is how it’s supposed to be all along. Wendy wants to make things right – she _needs_ to make things right again. She has to.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _six,_

 

“It hasn't been fair for you at all has it?” Her tongue forms syllables faster than her heart could tell her to stop. “And besides, you asked me to give us a chance. So why can't I take it?”

 

_(“Now I wish you would give us a chance, but I’d be better off lying, wouldn’t I?”)_

 

Seulgi looks startled – almost frightened at her conviction. Wendy couldn’t blame her; she’s sort of scared herself. But this was the right thing to do. No more pretending. _Right?_

 

“I-I'm not forcing you to love me again—”

 

“And you're not, Seul.” She intercepts quickly, attempting to regain her previous persona – her false confidence bleeding through. “I'm trying to learn it again.”

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – _nine,_

 

Wendy doesn’t realize how the air is thick with her ticking (every count on her watch felt like each word she’s said was a lie) until Seulgi hands her palm out. She recognizes the gesture immediately; just as fast as she had noticed that she had woken up without the scent of vanilla and lavender.

 

Wendy remembers Joohyun.

 

“N-No it’s okay, Seul.”

 

The stutter comes out as a reflection of the tremor in her chest, she’s sure, especially when all she hears is Joohyun’s voice – her sweet, soft, quiet, voice.

 

“Come on, I want to help.”

 

Seulgi nudges her gently again, almost as if she was hesitating, but Wendy can’t think past the fact that she’s suddenly craving for Joohyun’s skin beneath her fingertip and not the comfort of her watch’s glass.

 

“It...that makes me think of Joohyun.” _And I’m supposed to be thinking about you, right?_ Wendy doesn’t say it out loud – she’s not sure if she should.

 

Seulgi’s supposed to be all she sees, all she hears, all she feels, all she smells, all she tastes; it was always Seulgi – that was how it was supposed to be.

 

“If it helps to think about her, then that's okay.” Seulgi mumbles, tapping Wendy’s nose gently.

 

Wendy attempts to blink away pictures of Joohyun when Seulgi is the one in front of her. Why must her roommate blur her eyes with thoughts of her?

 

“Seul...”

 

The taller girl takes her ticking hand, gently placing it over her palm; Wendy recognizes the feel of warm skin beneath her own (the act done so often by her roommate).

 

But it’s not Joohyun’s.

 

“I'll be okay if you think about her – if thinking about her helps clear these noises away.” Seulgi mutters as she shuffles closer to Wendy. “I'll be okay if you think of her when you're kissing me, if you think of her when you're holding me.”

 

Wendy stares at the way Seulgi smiles at her: small, wistful, but _trying._ She wants to tell Seulgi that she doesn’t have to be happy all the time; that she doesn’t have to always pretend that she’s all right.

 

“I'll be okay if you're thinking of her when you tell me you love me too.”

 

Love? For Joohyun? No, it can’t be – she’s not _supposed_ to.

 

“Seul, I don't—”

 

“So it's okay to think of her,” Seulgi goes on like she never heard her, curling auburn behind Wendy’s ear. “Just as long as you can tell me that one day, you won't need to count me away anymore.”

 

Seulgi seems to know how she’s struggling; how much Joohyun takes up every image behind her eyes so she could replace the pain. Wendy admits that thinking of Joohyun helps; she’s known that for a while now – it doesn’t hurt to think about Joohyun as much as it hurts to think about Seulgi.

 

But that’s not how things are supposed to work; she’s not supposed to find comfort in Joohyun, she’s not supposed to be in love with Joohyun (oh god it _must_ be love – her heart shakes just thinking about her), just as much as she’s not supposed to be _Seungwan._

 

So Wendy grabs at Seulgi’s collar, pulls her in so she could kiss her again – kiss her more, feel her more, hear her groan. Wendy tries to pretend she’s not in love with Joohyun.

 

Wendy’s fingers can’t help but leave a dead honest touch that tells even herself that she was feeling for someone else. Wendy could tell in the way she’s searching, how her hands fumble under Seulgi’s clothes, almost like she were looking for Joohyun who was lost behind Seulgi’s skin.

 

She kisses Seulgi again and again, tasting for a flavor not there – desperate for that scent of vanilla and lavender (but all she smells is coconut and orange – _they’re so different_ ). Her mind is telling her that this is how it’s supposed to be – to have Seulgi under her fingertips; to have Seulgi kissing her, but Wendy can’t help but dig. She can’t help but scrape against the surface, tear away the skin and look for someone who isn’t there.

 

But this is close enough. Seulgi looks like Joohyun – sort of; that should make it easier. Once ‘Seungwan’ gets used to it, she’ll be ‘Wendy’ in no time. She _has_ to be.

 

It was always about ‘Wendy’. Wendy was all that mattered – all that anyone really cared about.

 

So she’ll be Wendy.

 

_(“People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead.”)_

 

She kisses Seulgi filled with “I love you's” across delicate skin, camouflaging her love for Joohyun in hues of pink and red on someone else’s lips.

 

_(“I don’t mind the sound of Seungwan.”)_

She’ll be ‘Wendy’ even if ‘Seungwan’ was the only one Joohyun ever knew.

 

After all, it didn’t matter if Seungwan was in love with Joohyun. She wasn’t the one who mattered.

 

-

 

Sooyoung had called Irene about picking up some things she had left behind. Irene knew it had been quite awhile since she'd been at her place; she couldn't recall forgetting anything. And why would it matter now anyway?

 

Running on no sleep and a single cup of cold coffee (that she still very much hates to drink) with a fluffy white stuffed teddy bear sitting comfortably over her shoulders, Irene shuffles through Sooyoung's apartment door, scowling at the various layers of clothing strewn about on the floor.

 

The mess has her grumbling, steadying the toy with a hand against its back and a stronger grip on her half-filled drink.

 

"This place looks like Yerim's bedroom."

 

She hears Sooyoung snort to her left along with clanking metal, smelling whiffs of burning food wafting through her nose and Irene wonders how Sooyoung could still be a terrible cook since the last time she's been over at her place a year ago.

 

"I know you're judging me by how you're making gagging faces, Joohyun unnie. Stop being ugly."

 

Laughter leaves Irene's mouth faster than she could avoid a green T-shirt under her left foot. Irene yelps, attempting to balance on slippery surface before steadying against Sooyoung's kitchen counter. _Stupid karma._

 

She ignores Sooyoung's amused grin, settling her coffee on a sturdy stable surface so it won't have another possibility of potentially splattering everywhere out of her own sense of balance (which clearly doesn't exist).

 

"You should try figure skating unnie."

 

"No."

 

Irene smiles at Sooyoung's laughter before settling on a stool, elbows propped comfortably atop the kitchen table, plucking the bear to sit next to her on another chair. She catches Sooyoung's glance at the stuffed animal.

 

"That's the bear you were sewing the dress for, right?"

 

Irene reaches out for a piece of not-burned beef across a porcelain platter, a mumbled "Yup," squeezing past chewing lips. Despite the dry texture, it actually tastes good.

 

"Why did you bring it?" Sooyoung leans over to reach for its blue dress, caressing fingers over a once-broken patch. "And you surprisingly didn't do so bad, unnie. I was expecting worse."

 

Irene only shrugs, taking another piece of beef.

 

"It looked lonely, so I brought it with me."

 

Maybe it was in the way her tone dipped just a tad lower that made Sooyoung look at her like she was referring to herself. Sooyoung’s brow rises as if alarmed; she always had that expression when some sort of idea clicked in place.

 

"What?"

 

Sooyoung shrugs, pointing at her hair with a fork before stabbing into a piece of beef.

 

"Your hair doesn't look messed up." Irene throws her a curious look before chomping on another meat, waiting for Sooyoung to continue. "Did you even sleep?"

 

"How're you so sure I didn't just fix myself up as soon as I got up in the morning?"

 

"You're wearing the same clothes you did yesterday when I said I'd rather have a crush on you instead."

 

Irene glances at her own clothes – she was right.

 

"Oh."

 

She hears Sooyoung hum in return, but just like the good friend Irene always knew her to be, Sooyoung doesn't probe, settling for pushing the plate closer to Irene so it'd be easier for her to reach.

 

Sooyoung was great like that. Blunt when speaking, but tactful. She never goes any further than necessary yet just enough to understand. She listens when spoken to and never asks when the situation doesn't call for it. It was why Irene never complained when Sooyoung needed her to just talk her feelings out. Maybe that was why Irene found herself forming such a hasty but steady friendship with her. She had never met someone so alike; they were almost mirror images of each other.

 

"Seulgi mentioned that you told her I like taking pictures of beautiful things." Sooyoung begins and Irene knows it's her turn to listen. "How did you end up talking about me?"

 

Irene pokes at a burnt beef.

 

"She said she used to paint. Her favorite was painting the seasons and it reminded me of you, so I told her you took pictures of those too." Irene takes a glance at Sooyoung's silent expression, the way her lips form a thin line. "You two aren't that different."

 

Sooyoung scoffs, rolling her eyes as she motions up, ditching her fork to slump on her couch instead. Irene watches her hang her head off the armrest.

 

"She's short and I'm tall. 'Nuff said."

 

"So are we."

 

"But you're almost as beautiful as me."

 

Irene never once found Sooyoung's light narcissistic streak as annoying. It gave her charm – something that never escaped the younger girl.

 

"'Almost'? And what about Seulgi?"

 

"That's all the compliment you'll be getting today, unnie." She sees Sooyoung send her a glare. "And again, just no."

 

Taking the last piece of unburned meat, Irene clutches the bear under an arm to bring with her, settling on the opposite side of the couch as Sooyoung curls her legs so there's room.

 

Except for her soft munching, silence plays as their company. Irene cuddles the bear against her, the color blue reminding her of Seungwan. She wonders what her roommate is doing now. Did she sleep well? Did she sleep at all? Was she cold? Irene was sure Seulgi would've had the temperature up; she knew Seungwan better than anyone else (they were best friends after all). Would Seulgi be holding her while they slept?

 

She pinches the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes and attempting to will away images of Seulgi's arms around Seungwan – to erase how much it makes her heart loud in her ears, her brows crinkling at the sight of something that could very much be real even if it was all in her head. Irene could feel how her fingers twitch to touch Seungwan, to have her heat embedded under her skin. God, what was wrong with her?

 

... Did Seulgi get to hear Seungwan's goodnight?

 

“Go down on me, unnie.”

 

Irene should've expected nothing less from her giant no-filter walking tree to scrape her thoughts so crudely. Then again, she's kind of glad Sooyoung did.

 

“Excuse me? You're very inappropriate.”

 

She watches Sooyoung readjust herself on the couch, sitting up and patting her lap, gesturing with a tilt of her head to Irene to come closer.

 

“And you think dirty, unnie. What's the difference?”

 

She pats her legs once more, urging her to lie down and for a minute Irene wonders if it was obvious (her lack of sleep; Sooyoung did point it out earlier) until Sooyoung is leaning closer to poke at her cheek.

 

“Come on Joohyun unnie. I won't bite. Unless you want me to." Irene scowls at Sooyoung's cheeky grin. "And I'm very comfortable, you know.”

 

Irene scoffs but despite rolling her eyes at Sooyoung's teasing smile, she listens, her head settling gently atop Sooyoung's lap. It _is_ comfortable; she’s not sure if she should add to the giant’s ego though.

 

“Now what'd I tell you?”

 

She ignores the smug smile in Sooyoung's voice, turning over so she could snuggle into Sooyoung's soft tummy, the feel of cotton warm against her tired eyes.

 

“Now it's comfy.” Irene mutters against Sooyoung's aqua colored sweater.

 

Sooyoung laughs with her signature snort, girlish and gruff at the same time – her stomach bouncing gently as a result. She likes how it massages her eyes.

 

"What are you doing?" Irene can't help but ask, especially when Sooyoung starts to comb fingers through her hair, the gesture forming slumber clouds in her head.

 

"Making you sleep even if it's already 1 in the afternoon."

 

She hums under Sooyoung's tender touches, how they flutter against the back of her ear before crossing over her scalp. Sooyoung was always the biggest softie under her thick narcissistic shell.

 

Against her better judgment (or maybe she was really that tired) Irene lets her mind rest – to ease away how Seungwan plagues her every thought.

 

Irene sleeps to someone else's goodnight.

 

“Goodnight, Joohyun unnie.”

 

-

 

Wendy thinks she’s getting the hang of it.

 

She’s been looking at paintings that Seulgi has done, grateful for the distractions it provides – she hasn’t really thought about Joohyun since she’s made her choice to be just ‘Wendy’ (or so she tries to convince herself).

 

Yet here she was, lying in her own head, having kissed Seulgi more than once – attempting to regain parts of herself that didn’t feel like hers anymore. Despite finally starting a relationship with someone who had been waiting for them to begin for so long, Wendy was still thinking of someone else.

 

It’ll take time, she thinks, until Joohyun’s no longer behind her eyes, with Seungwan finally out of the picture. She just needs to be patient.

 

“This looks beautiful,” Wendy says, gliding soft fingers across a colorful canvas. “Where is this?”

 

She notes how a lake is just below a hill, several people illustrated near benches: the elderly, the teens, and a group of children that appeared to be running with orange and green balloons. Her eyes fall on a woman with long ebony hair painted with a camera (was it a polaroid?) just off to the side, idle on the sidewalk, having been drawn as if taking pictures.

 

“Thanks.” Seulgi comes up beside her, slithering an arm around her waist. “It was at a park not too far from here. It’s my autumn entry for my personal season collection.”

 

Wendy is keenly aware of the heat around her, something that she should be getting accustomed to soon. She just needs time.

 

“Will you take me there, one day?”

 

Seulgi’s laughter tickles her neck and Wendy finds herself swallowed in her arms, her back pressed tightly against Seulgi, her whispered “Of course,” dancing along the edges of her ear.

 

She just needs time.

 

“Will you…” Seulgi’s hesitation plays with the curiosity growing in Wendy’s head, urging her to glance back at the taller girl. “…Will I get to hear your goodnight again?”

 

And just like that something clicks in her head and she feels like she’s back to square one. All she hears is Joohyun’s voice: she sees the way the corners of her roommate’s lips curl up just a little bit as if to smirk, how she always mutely handed her palm out when she was counting thoughts away, and how they whispered “Goodnight” before bed.

 

_(“Can I hear your ‘goodnight’ then? Since you won’t be home.”)_

 

Oh no.

 

Wendy remembers her promise written on a tiny blue sticky-note; how she had grinned as she wrote it, eager to tell her roommate “Goodnight” before bed and had felt childishly giddy at the thought that Joohyun wouldn’t sleep until she did.

 

_(In case you get too lonely. It’s cuddly to hug, I promise! Wait for my goodnight before you sleep, okay? — Wan)_

 

 _Oh god,_ did Joohyun actually follow through with it?

 

“Please no,” Wendy mutters to herself, tapping a finger against her watch, worry etching each beat in her heart. “No, please. Don’t be stupid,”

 

She unlatches Seulgi’s arms around her, hastily making it to her bag, fumbling through piles of things she suddenly found unnecessary for the one item that should’ve been close to her at all times. Wendy’s vaguely aware of Seulgi’s questioning “What’s wrong?” as she rummages for her phone that somehow has gotten harder to find.

 

Would Joohyun be stupid enough to listen to her? No, she wouldn’t. Joohyun would sleep if it had gotten too late, wouldn’t she? She’s smarter than that. She’d have slept once she realized she wouldn’t be calling, right?

 

 _So stupid._ How could she have forgotten?

 

Wendy was glad she had put Joohyun on speed dial, eagerly waiting for her to pick up; just to hear her voice – would she sound sleepy?

 

_I’m so sorry,_

She hears the line click open. Wendy can’t wait; she’s already spouting her apologies for a promise she couldn’t keep.

 

_I’m sorry I forgot,_

“Hyun, I-I didn't mean to forget I just—”

 

_“Wendy unnie?”_

 

She felt like someone had torn her insides to splatter out, her shoulders suddenly heavy with a weight she didn’t want to acknowledge – a truth she had been desperate to ignore. But it was speaking to her and Wendy knew it couldn’t get any more real than this.

 

Joohyun’s with Yeri – _of course._ She still loves her.

 

Wendy repeats it again and again in her head, akin to a mantra so it’d dig deep into her brain and never get out. When Yeri tells her Joohyun is asleep (and that she could pick her up) she’s relieved that Joohyun is at least resting. She was suspicious of the time – it was already 2 in the afternoon, but as long as Joohyun was catching up on sleep, it didn’t really matter.

 

Once the call ends Wendy is already packing her things, changing into her outside wear and tugging her backpack onto her shoulder. She barely hears Seulgi’s curious “Where are you going?” until she’s repeating it again.

 

“I-I have to go,” the urgency bleeds easy past Wendy’s lips, “I just remembered something – I’m sorry Seul. Not tonight. Maybe some other time, okay?”

 

Her jacket isn’t even closed when Wendy makes it through half of Seulgi’s door, glancing back for one more goodbye before watching how Seulgi’s expression looks so unsure – like Seulgi was hoping to hold her just a little bit longer.

 

Wendy remembers how Joohyun still has Yeri. It was about time Seulgi had her long-awaited wish too (after all, she was sure Joohyun had been wishing for Yeri).

 

She hurries back to give Seulgi a long kiss – shutting her eyes and willing away images of Joohyun. They were dating now. Seungwan will be gone eventually.

 

She just needs time.

 

_(“Don't apologize for being my priority.”)_

Even if Joohyun is suddenly all she sees.

 

Wendy tries not to cry as she nods to Seulgi's glowing smile, taking her hand and squeezing for reassurance. Wendy makes sure to kiss her again: harder, deeper, just so Joohyun's voice would go away – just so it won't remind her of how much of a monster she has become.

 

She’s afraid of how much time she needs. How long would it take until Joohyun isn’t in every kiss anymore?

 

“I’ll talk to you later.” She mutters against Seulgi’s mouth before running out onto the snow, rejecting Seulgi’s offer to tag along with a shake of her head.

 

Wendy hates how she is Joohyun's priority when she has made her a mere option.

 

-

 

“I'm back,” Yeri says, seeing Joy raise a hand to her lips as soon as she walks into the giant’s apartment; it has Yeri curious, grocery bags in hand.

 

“Who’s that?” Yeri asks, plopping the plastic bags onto the kitchen island, having spotted a woman lying on Joy’s lap. She catches a plate filled with burnt meat. “You didn’t save any edible ones for me?”

 

“Well. I didn’t know I was cooking for you.”

 

“But you cooked for…whoever that is?”

 

Joy’s laugh is muffled by a hand, clearly attempting to keep quiet, and Yeri only grows more curious at the silent lump lying across the couch. She’s about to probe again when Joy intercepts.

 

“Come here.”

 

Yeri has a growing suspicion that she won’t like what Joy is planning. She obliges half-heartedly, dumping her empty tube of red lipstick onto the table so she could put her jacket into the laundry basket (and clean up all the mess she’s made on the floor) before treading carefully to shorten the distance between them, narrowing her eyes at Joy’s insistence.

 

“What?”

 

“I have errands to run,” Joy quips, yanking her closer whilst lifting the woman’s head. “So keep her company.”

 

Yeri almost falls at the sight of Joohyun.

 

“Are you insane?!” She hisses harshly, steadying her hands against the top of the couch, feeling all too close to knocking out Joy’s pearly-white perfect teeth. She almost fell on her! “It’s Irene unnie!”

 

“So? Last time I checked you’re still in love with her.” Joy retorts and Yeri has half a mind to punch her if it weren’t for the fact that the noise would probably wake Joohyun. “And nice catch. You almost fell for her – _again._ ”

 

“Shut up.” Yeri settles for slapping the back of Joy’s head – lightly (she can’t have Joohyun waking up – it’s different when they talk in person compared to on the phone). “Is she staying over? Because if that’s the case, I’m just going to find somewhere else to—”

 

“Relax, temporary roomie.” Joy’s Cheshire smile has Yeri’s skin crawling. “She just took a nap. I don’t think she slept at all last night.”

 

Yeri remembers their phone call – she was definitely partially to blame for Joohyun’s lack of sleep. But did that mean Joohyun hadn’t bothered to sleep even after their conversation ended? What kept her awake? And since when did Joohyun get herself a teddy bear?

 

“So are you going to be her next pillow or what?”

 

Yeri wonders if it’s okay. She’s gradually getting used to living life without Joohyun – sort of. At least, she didn’t need to depend on her much anymore. She could get through most days without hearing a peep from her, with thoughts of Joohyun being the only thing left to remind her that Joohyun was still around.

 

“Yeah,” she’s sure she’ll be okay, cradling Joohyun’s head gently as Joy stands to leave. “Sure, whatever.”

 

Joohyun’s head on her lap has Yeri’s heart tingling from familiarity, how her fingers suddenly crave to touch her, already combing her hand through silky onyx hair. It was as soft as Yeri remembered it to be.

 

She giggles instinctively when Joohyun nuzzles against her tummy, as if readjusting for comfort. Yeri could feel tears burn behind her eyes. She never realized how much she missed this.

 

“Call me if you need anything.”

 

Joy says like she knew what Yeri was going through, not waiting for her reply. Yeri wonders if it was obvious that she suddenly couldn’t speak; not when her throat was clogged up from ghost nails of their memories together that came crashing in.

 

She remembers holding Joohyun like this all too well.

 

Even when the door to Joy’s apartment shuts with a click and nothing but silence protrudes the air, Yeri finds her greatest peace in combing her fingers through locks of Joohyun’s hair.

 

She wishes they could be like this forever, but when Joohyun’s phone vibrates in her jean pocket, Yeri makes haste to pluck it out, panicking for the way Joohyun’s brows crinkle; she was going to wake.

 

Once she finds the annoying device, Yeri keeps the phone as far from Joohyun as possible, holding her breath until Joohyun’s expression relaxes. There was no way Joohyun was going to wake up when she was present. Yeri can’t handle looking into her eyes again – she might never get out.

 

Remembering something that almost always did the trick when it came to making Joohyun sleep, Yeri curls her hand to cup Joohyun’s ear, rubbing her fingers gently above it to massage her temple. Immediately she sees the way Joohyun’s brows loosen, her frown lifting to parted lips, a soft hum of approval escaping her mouth as she repositions herself, nuzzling deeper. Yeri holds back her giggles, being reminded of just how much Joohyun resembles a cat.

 

Feeling relieved, Yeri goes back to massaging Joohyun’s scalp, glancing at her phone to check the caller ID.

 

‘Home’.

 

Now that was a surprise.

 

She wonders how Joohyun had fixed her relationship with her family (maybe they were finally accepting of her?). Yeri actually didn't mind her younger sister; they were definitely closer in age so it hadn't been hard to get along with her. She even remembers Joohyun having been worried before about losing her to her younger sibling – a silly moment of jealousy that Yeri had been quick to erase with a kiss on the cheek when her family wasn't looking.

 

Clearly she missed a lot while they were out of contact.

 

Yeri clicks answer, her lips parting to speak when the caller beats her to it.

 

_“Hyun, I-I didn't mean to forget I just—”_

 

She recognizes that voice anywhere. How it carried fragility under its stuttering syllables, the tremor in her tone so distinctive of her character (from the short time Yeri had spent with her at least).

 

“Wendy unnie?”

 

Yeri notes the pause that suddenly feels like it’s suffocating her, pulling Joohyun’s phone away just so she could mar the label tattooed for this woman into her brain. She should’ve known.

 

_(“You shouldn’t make someone your home.”)_

Of course Joohyun wouldn’t listen to her. She never does. _Always so stubborn…_

 

_“Y-Yeri?”_

 

She finds some comfort in knowing that Wendy gets nervous around her, how her voice gets just a tiny bit softer, a little more timid – and a lot more scared. She should be – Yeri would hurt her if she did anything bad to Joohyun; especially now that the older woman has settled for calling her ‘Home’. That was never an easy feat.

 

“She’s asleep right now,” Yeri says, caressing Joohyun’s scalp, brushing away loose strands of onyx. “You can come by and pick her up if you want. I’ll give you Joy unnie’s address.”

 

What sounds like a breath of relief latches onto her earlobe, Wendy’s sigh a neon sign that practically screams “Yes,” and Yeri can’t help but grip Joohyun just a little closer – hold her just a little bit tighter.

 

_“Yes please, that’d be great Yeri. Thank you.”_

 

Yeri doesn’t question the obvious grateful tone in her voice, nodding absently (forgetting that Wendy couldn’t see her) before hastily mumbling Joy’s address into the receiver. When Wendy thanks her once again with a particular bouncy chirp before hanging up, Yeri sort of regrets telling her to take Joohyun away.

 

Her eyes automatically glance back at the older woman’s face and thinks: _this is okay –_ just one more time.

 

Gently, Yeri writes across Joohyun’s arm with her free hand the words she can no longer say out loud (“I love you”), before bending down, letting her lips hover over Joohyun’s for one last kiss.

 

-

 

Irene wakes up to Seungwan’s smile.

 

She blinks her sleep away, thinking that maybe she’s still dreaming, but Seungwan is giggling and curling her hair behind her ear – which feels all too real, that Irene knows she’s not imagining it.

 

“…Wan?”

 

Seungwan taps at her brow and Irene is bewildered at her roommate’s playful character; how she is grinning from ear-to-ear, her expression full of life – something so different from how she had looked glum the past few days. She momentarily wonders if she had woken up in some alternate universe when it’s Seungwan’s lap she’s lying on and not Sooyoung’s.

 

Wait, where was Sooyoung?

 

“I came to pick you up,” Seungwan laughs, her fingers feeling soft against Irene’s skin, her hand curling behind her ear, cupping it. “Why did you need to sleep on Joy’s couch if we have two perfectly good beds waiting for you back home?”

 

Irene is well too aware of Seungwan’s sudden confidence – her lacking stutter and bold gestures tell her she’s changed. She notices by how Seungwan massages fingers just above her ear (how bold she is for touching her so comfortably), a particular sweet spot for Irene that it has her sighing instantly at the pressure – how Seungwan even knew of her weakness, Irene isn’t sure.

 

She keeps mum, attempting to blink bleary sleep images of Seungwan away, focusing on the way her roommate is tapping on her brow again before Seungwan speaks, her smile curving downwards. No, it shouldn’t be getting smaller, Irene thinks then; she likes looking at it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Seungwan mumbles softly, fluttering her fingers through her hair and Irene swears she could fall right back to sleep with her touch. “I want to make up for last night. I-I didn’t mean to forget your goodnight…” There it was – a peep of Seungwan’s timid self.

 

Irene wants to wipe that sad look on her face; it doesn’t suit her at all – she should be smiling more.

 

“What about tonight?”

 

Seungwan is suddenly colored in shades of glowing red, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as her mouth breaks into that glimmering curve Irene adores so much.

 

Her roommate takes her by surprise again, watching Seungwan bend down so their foreheads touch and Irene wonders if Seungwan’s blushing skin is melding into her own so Seungwan won’t be the only one feeling shy. She sees how her roommate’s eyes have closed, how her laugh tickles Irene’s cheek, painting happiness in pink along her skin. Irene can’t help but squeeze her eyes shut too; she missed Seungwan – _so much._

 

“I promise.”

 

Logic should’ve played the bigger role in her head when she heard Seungwan’s second vow – that doubt should be eating away at Irene’s ears and tearing at the gears in her mouth to spout some sort of snarky response for the fact that Seungwan had already broken one. She should be smarter than that.

 

But she must be a bigger idiot than even Sooyoung could guess because Irene can’t help but believe her again.

 

They leave Sooyoung’s apartment not long after once the giant returns. Irene remembers how she had gotten up to see no clothes loitering about anymore (the green shirt no longer there to disrupt her poor balance). Sooyoung must have cleaned it before she left – or maybe even Seungwan when she arrived considering she was still very much picky when it comes to being tidy.

 

But she remembers one crucial detail: she had spotted a particular tube of red lipstick with that same brand that Yerim always wore on the kitchen counter right before she closed Sooyoung’s door.

 

Maybe Sooyoung wanted the same shade as hers (which would be a little odd considering how much they hated sharing things – though that may have changed too).

 

But Irene could’ve sworn Sooyoung wasn’t wearing any lipstick.

 

“Come on, we have some grocery shopping to do.”

 

Seungwan grabs her hand, jostling the thoughts in her head.

 

“What for?”

 

“Food, silly.”

 

Seungwan’s laughter melts into her ears and Irene wonders how she had been able to survive several hours without it.

 

-

 

It’s already 10 in the evening.

 

They’ve managed to buy enough food to last a week, buying more necessities that they needed and re-stocking on products that have been depleted. But despite the usual comfortable air that hovers over them, Irene can’t help but stare just a little longer at her roommate.

 

Seungwan practically hops around with a bounce in each step, a smile so wide that Irene fears it’d crack out of exhaustion, her roommate’s limbs so fluid with motion. Seungwan’s words lack choppy syllables and normally Irene would’ve found the change new and endearing, but this feels artificial. Almost like Seungwan was forcing herself to be confident (or hiding away what she considered were imperfections).

 

Irene knew it was all pretend as soon as Seungwan attempted to count her thoughts away on a wrist that no longer held her watch.

 

She had asked the shorter girl about it multiple times (she never noticed it was gone until Seungwan started trying to tap numbers and Irene couldn’t hear those signature ‘ticks’ anymore), but all Seungwan would ever say was “I didn’t need it before,” and left it at that.

 

Was Seungwan trying to be someone else?

 

“Hyun?”

 

Irene hums in response to show that she’s heard, nuzzling deeper against the back of Seungwan’s neck, auburn hair tickling her eyelids.

 

They’re in bed together, their hands tangled in each other’s skin, and Irene wonders if roommates even do this in the first place. The intimacy doesn’t escape her but just like always, they seemed to have come up with a mutual understanding that it was okay.

 

“How am I?” Seungwan’s voice is oddly quiet, almost like a whisper.

 

Irene brushes her fingers along Seungwan’s left wrist – _so bare._ She can feel how Seungwan’s attempting to tap noises away by how she continues to feel for her own skin before pulling back as if to reprimand herself.

 

Carefully, Irene lifts Seungwan's wrist to her lips, meeting warm skin for a silent kiss that makes Irene’s heart loud. She presses her mouth gently against the space where Seungwan's watch used to be, a sign to show she's just as appreciative of what Seungwan had been.

 

“J-Joohyun?” Seungwan's voice is delightfully sweet in her ears, a stutter reveal under her persona of confidence; the person Irene's been looking to kiss. _She’s still there._

 

Her lips motion against Seungwan's small wrist.

 

“Shy or bold, you're still the same to me.” Irene mutters, eyes shutting to a close so she can't see Seungwan's expression when the shorter girl attempts to look at her. She's not sure she's brave enough to witness what her roommate's face will tell. “You're still…” _Home._

 

Irene kisses her skin again, leaving it at that, etching her mark by warmth, hoping her bared heart reaches Seungwan's (because she can’t bring herself to say it out loud), feeling the way her roommate’s pulse draws rhythms against her lips.

 

Irene can't bear to look at her when she lets go, burying her nose into Seungwan's peach-scented hair, curling her arms around her waist so their hands tangle against Seungwan's stomach again. Irene knows Seungwan wants to turn around, wants to look at her and potentially say something (Irene's positive she's itching to ask what she meant; to have her finish what she was supposed to say – _oh god,_ what was she thinking), but all Seungwan does is curl their fingers tighter together.

 

Seungwan is intoxicating.

 

She shouldn't be this dangerous – shouldn't be this hungry for Seungwan. It's terrifying how even when she's closing her eyes she's still seeing Seungwan. What’s gotten into her?

 

“Goodnight, Hyun.” Seungwan whispers and Irene squeezes just a little tighter, pulling her closer, loving how much her voice drips honey over her ears.

 

She wants to kiss her.

 

“…Goodnight, Wan.” Irene mutters into Seungwan’s hair, her lips motioning every syllable against warm skin, letting the words kiss into Seungwan’s bones. She’s smiling at the way her roommate shivers under her mouth.

 

She really wants to kiss her. _But what about Yerim?_

 

-

 

It gets easier being Wendy.

 

Or maybe she's just so used to pretending to be Wendy that she could fool even herself that she is.

 

She had adopted the memory image that Seulgi had told her about, playing the part of her former self – the confident walk, the teasing smile, the happy voice.

 

It came easier than she thought, as if her former personality fitted like a glove, masking her newer, bashful self – what everyone seems to consider as a mistake (wasn't it a mistake?) – hiding away the one who Joohyun only ever knew.

 

But it gets easier to ignore the noises; easier to pretend to not need to tap away the sounds that coil her head. Every count she makes it’s Joohyun that comes to mind. It made sense: thinking of Joohyun always helped make the noises go away, but now she needed to do the opposite – to let her thoughts (memories of Seulgi) stay and not tap them away anymore.

 

Wendy’s not supposed to be thinking about Joohyun. Joohyun’s not supposed to be the one she finds comfort in; it should be Seulgi. But Joohyun doesn’t make it easy when she sometimes looks at her like she wants to kiss her (and it’s not like Wendy – _Seungwan,_ wants to keep thoughts of Joohyun away either which is terrifying).

 

She hasn’t even told Joohyun that she was dating Seulgi yet, hanging out and letting her taste her and love her and touch her and feel her; _did she even want to?_

_No,_ she couldn’t tell Joohyun about Seulgi – not when it would change how Joohyun touches her, feels her, _watches her_ ; she doesn’t want those to go away – _she can’t let them go._

 

It has been several weeks since she’s slept over at Seulgi’s and had found Joohyun sleeping at Joy’s apartment (which Yeri had been occupying as a temporary roommate).

 

Wendy had managed to catch a short conversation with the younger girl as soon as she entered Joy’s complex.

 

_“Curl your hand behind her ear. She likes that soft ‘echoey’ sound like she’s in a cave. Not that she’s ever been in one.” Yeri had instructed her as soon as she knelt to meet Joohyun’s closed eyes._

_“What?”_

_Yeri had lifted Joohyun’s head then, ushering her with a nod to carry it on her lap. Wendy truthfully had no clue what she was getting herself into. And why was Yeri letting her be so close to Joohyun?_

_“Then just massage the area right above it,” Wendy didn’t know why she was listening either – it was almost like Yeri had that ‘authority’ to her voice. “It’s useful to know whenever Irene unnie is stressed or if she can’t sleep – it makes her feel relaxed.”_

_“But…” Wendy had begun, having stared up at someone who very much looked like she was pondering herself as to why she was giving her tips. “…Why are you telling me this?”_

_It had taken a few moments: Yeri pacing a bit in front of her, rubbing her fingers against a strand of copper-brown hair, biting her lip, before she finally gave Wendy (and possibly herself if Wendy had guessed it right) a plausible explanation._

_“I won’t always be there.”_

_“Are you saying that I will?”_

_“Are you implying that you won’t?”_

Wendy had been ready to raise her voice in defense; she wanted to argue that she’d never leave Joohyun, but she knew she already made that mistake the night before by forgetting.

 

When Joohyun had begun to stir, Yeri was quick to tell her not to mention anything about her being there before rushing into a room and shutting the door.

 

Wendy had no time to ask why when Joohyun’s eyes had fluttered open to stare at her looking so innocently lost and utterly sleepy. How could Wendy bring herself to not think of her?

 

They’re in the kitchen now with Joohyun cleaning up the dining table (having just returned from getting her coffee), Wendy busying herself with the finishing touches to their breakfast.

 

Wendy hasn’t been able to look at Joohyun properly. At best, she settled for short glances to Joohyun’s eyes before looking elsewhere. She found it hard to stare for long when Joohyun always looked at her like she was promising to love her.

 

She knew in how Joohyun held her tighter than usual, closer than typical roommates, and longer than best friends. The older woman was touchier too, affection pouring out like scathing marks for every fingernail that slid against Wendy’s skin.

 

Joohyun had no reservations lately: she’d find herself in Joohyun’s embrace whenever she cooked, or cuddled up at the end of their sofa in front of the television, to walking around the city with hands interlaced and arms squished together.

 

Most were quite typical though, especially when they were in bed together. What changed was how it _felt._ It didn’t feel like they were roommates finding comfort in each other, or friends who just loved being overly touchy together – it felt all too much like they were in love and Wendy knew then that it had to stop.

 

Joohyun loving her? _She must’ve fallen in love with ‘Wendy’._

Who wouldn’t?

 

“Coffee _again,_ Hyun?” Wendy doesn’t know why the words sound eerily familiar, leaving her lips like they were rushing to pour out. “I bet you taste like it now too, what with your obsession every morning.”

 

The words had come out automatically, her limbs motioning in rhythm to a beat Wendy didn’t remember. She feels like she’s had this conversation before.

 

“I think I’m getting over it,” Joohyun taps at the rim, looking mildly pleased with herself. “But besides that, wouldn’t _you_ like to know?”

 

Wendy swears she’s heard this conversation before, recognizing that teasing lilt in Joohyun’s voice. The words are similar, the mood frighteningly the same – her lips part for syllables she doesn’t remember, her legs taking control and circling the table to lean over Joohyun who’s still seated at their table.

 

“I would, actually.”

 

Something has crawled up in her, clawing at Wendy’s chest to tell her that that’s as far as her body recalls. Wendy can feel she’s back to being in control, but she doesn’t pull away, letting her breath tickle Joohyun’s lips and watch how her roommate’s eyes flicker to her mouth.

 

She should be backing off – erase this moment and pretend it never happened. But Wendy can’t bring herself to do it, not when there’s still Seungwan somewhere inside and it’s all she’s ever wanted: that she’s wanted to be this close to Joohyun, to feel her lips and taste her, to breathe in vanilla and lavender – she’s never been this close to Joohyun even when the older girl has been shortening the distance all along.

 

To think she thought it was easy pretending to be Wendy.

 

_Stupid._

“You can't do this to me,” Joohyun whispers against her lips and Wendy has to steady herself when the older woman rises from her chair. “You shouldn't be doing this to me…” Wendy grasps at Joohyun’s arms, finding her legs teetering and she needs balance. “Please don't do this to me, Seungwan…”

 

It startles her how Joohyun's words eerily match Seulgi's plead that night she let Seulgi love her.

 

“Don't make me come up with reasons not to kiss you if you're just going to turn them all into a giant excuse.”

 

Wendy can feel Joohyun's breath scrape at her mouth, the distance unbearably close that it's amazing how their lips have yet to really meet.

 

So she was right. Joohyun really was looking at her like she wanted to kiss her.

 

The restraint reflects their relationship, Wendy thinks, how there seems to still be a wall of formality despite their ease of sleeping in the same bed. Joohyun is too conscious over boundaries despite already breaking them while she herself is busy thinking about what ifs – _when she’s not supposed to._

 

But Wendy wants Joohyun to break whatever invisible fortress they have between them, conjured up completely by their own kindness and hesitation. She wants Joohyun to be the one to bridge their gap because that'd mean Yeri really isn't part of the picture anymore.

 

But that didn’t mean Seulgi wasn’t.

 

No, she still can’t tell Joohyun about them – not when she wants this.

 

Wendy can’t help but tempt her.

 

“Then stop making up reasons for your excuses and kiss me.”

 

When Joohyun hesitates, that little second that flutters between their lips, Wendy – _Seungwan,_ is tired of waiting, yanking Joohyun in by the collar of her white dress-shirt, kissing the fact that she was dating Seulgi away for this short moment.

 

Wendy wonders if it's selfish of her to give them what they all want.

 

Joohyun bites on Wendy’s bottom lip, eliciting a sound from the shorter girl too similar to what should be found in a bedroom between the sheets. She can feel Joohyun's hands cradle the skin along her waist, her fingers already playing with the edges of Wendy's denim jeans (they were supposed to go out shopping again – it’ll have to wait).

 

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.”

 

Joohyun is mumbling along Wendy's jaw, to the skin of her neck. Wendy can't help but tilt her head, allow Joohyun to draw kisses across a canvas already ghost-marked by Seulgi's lips.

 

This _is_ wrong, Wendy thinks, agreeing (because here she is, kissing someone else when she’s dating another), but even when she knows, she's already comparing how the two of them tattoo heat along her skin.

 

Seulgi had been slow and gentle, almost like she was afraid of breaking her – of touching fragility like she’d crumble. Joohyun was ripping her down raw – fiery by how her teeth scorched marks along her skin, shredding her apart into a breathless heap.

 

They were similar yet so different.

 

“I'm supposed to love Yerim,” Joohyun murmurs against her neck, tongue swiping along her pulse point. “Aren't I?”

 

Wendy clutches at Joohyun's hair, her fingers swallowed in tangles of ebony. She doesn't know why she's bringing Joohyun closer, urging her to kiss deeper – harder, even when Joohyun's trying to remind herself of a different lover.

 

Joohyun's trying to stop this madness and Wendy doesn't want it to end.

 

 _I'm crazy,_ Wendy thinks then, mewling Joohyun's name, _“Hyun...”_ when she feels Joohyun bite into her skin, the indents of her teeth circling the spot her heart beats the loudest.

 

“This is so wrong, Seungwan...”

 

Joohyun is chastising her despite the lips still pressing fire against her neck. Wendy doesn't know why she is loving this contradiction – why she loves how Joohyun is trying so hard to resist her.

 

Wendy is loving how Joohyun just _can't._

 

Joohyun's attempting to have logic play between their potent intimacy. Wendy feels a bit proud of herself for scratching off Joohyun's reasoning with tangled hands in her roommate's hair and the sounds from her throat.

 

“This is wrong,” Joohyun mutters again, as if to remind herself, her breath marring delightful scars across Wendy's neck.

 

She writes out Joohyun's poor method of escape with a temptress's touch, caressing doubt along Joohyun's mind with words clawing desire past her mouth.

 

Wendy’s aching for Joohyun.

 

“Let's be wrong together.” Wendy whispers the words against Joohyun’s lips, her voice meshing against their heavy breaths.

 

Wendy didn't think she could want Joohyun this much – to have her roommate's fingers burn magma along her hips, Joohyun's mouth marking her mutual want against her pulse. She whimpers under tender pressures of Joohyun's teeth, stumbling backwards on weak, _weak_ knees until her back meets the door.

 

Joohyun helps keep her up by arms encircled around her waist, pressing against her so the surface acts as her pillar.

 

It's instinctive when another sound leaves Wendy’s mouth at Joohyun's hot lips digging against her skin, teeth biting down before a supple tongue heals over indents, and then repeat.

 

Wendy groans at every burning pressure, loving the feel of Joohyun's hunger – enjoying how much Joohyun _wants_ her.

 

Her gasp spills between desperate breaths for air as Joohyun's knee wedges itself between her already weak legs, lighting an ember to burn in Wendy’s stomach; every butterfly scorching in ruins much like the noises she no longer hears in her head.

 

“Joohyun...”

 

Wendy whimpers under Joohyun's slim fingers gliding beneath her shirt, nails clawing along her back to reach the clasp of her bra, etching trails across her skin. Wendy arches towards her so it'll be easier for her, pressing closer into a hot warmth, molding their bodies together so there's not a single space that keeps them apart.

 

“Hyun...” She breathes again, uncurling her arms to cradle Joohyun's cheeks, guiding Joohyun's head back up so their lips could mesh their fever want together.

 

Joohyun's kisses are searing, blistering heat against her mouth to burn her taste and tattoo it along her lips. They're wanting, loving, bruising – so unlike Seulgi's in terms of ferocity that Wendy wishes they were similar in that aspect too.

 

It'd be easier to compare which she wanted – _needed,_ more.

 

Wendy groans into a stinging kiss, feeling impatience settle in her stomach at Joohyun's finger teasingly playing with the strap of her bra. She can feel Joohyun's other hand release her waist, her knee now the only thing keeping Wendy upright.

 

Her fingers streak down along Joohyun's jaw, resting nails along her neck, attempting to pull her impossibly closer, her lungs emptying of air. Wendy wonders where Joohyun's free hand is going, smirking against her lips – _waiting._

 

She hears the dial of their door's lock click open and close.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

“...Three,” Joohyun whispers against her mouth, her panting squeezing between her teeth and into Wendy's heart.

 

It startles Wendy out of her cloudy haze, feeling her eyes clear away feral desire as Joohyun turns the lock again, right beside her ear.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

 _... Six,_ Wendy counts in her head, the notion automatic.

 

She can feel Joohyun smile, disappointment lining Wendy’s limbs when the taller girl pulls away so they're no longer kissing words. Wendy wants to ask why – why Joohyun chose to stop when pools of brown still looked at her like Joohyun didn't want it to end.

 

“W-What is it?”

 

Joohyun’s eyes suddenly carry so much – like they’re filled with so many words, so many questions, so many things, that Wendy’s not sure what they mean until Joohyun speaks; it chills her bones and freezes her heart to a pause.

 

“Why do you taste like the same orange lip balm Seulgi always wears?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> AN:
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. Life just loves keeping us busy sometimes – if not all the time.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you once again for reading, for all the upvotes, and for all the comments. I see and read every single one of them and cherish them all the same.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update – until next time.


	11. Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seulgi's signature orange lip balm is hard to miss.

Seulgi's signature orange lip balm is hard to miss.

 

Irene doesn't need a sensitive nose to recognize that distinct scent; Seulgi was notorious for breaking personal space, after all. Irene would find herself during their coffee-talks in the taller girl's suffocating embrace – Seulgi's peculiar way of showing friendly affection whenever they find something in common.

 

Irene has learned that Seulgi likes to swallow people in her hugs when she was happy; she has an inkling feeling working as a mascot has plenty to do with it. Seulgi didn't look the type to be overtly affectionate.

 

“You don't wear much lipstick do you, unnie?”

 

Seulgi had asked her one Friday afternoon; a week since Seungwan had slept over at the taller girl's house.

 

Irene remembers having shrugged at her question, twirling a spoon in her cup of hot coffee. She didn't really feel the need to drink it lately; it didn't feel like she was looking for Yerim in it anymore. The thought was terrifying.

 

“No, I prefer lip balm.”

 

She watched Seulgi perk up, her hands already digging into her bag that Irene found herself curious enough to ditch the coffee – at least, for now.

 

“Same!” Seulgi had looked excited at finding another common ground with her, the first having been their shared love for dancing (to which they had both admitted to having dropped at the end of high school). “I love this orange one the best. It lasts the whole day so my lips stay moisturized and it even tastes great too.”

 

Irene had taken the tube to get a whiff of its scent: its familiar, sharp, fruity, smell the same as the one on Seulgi's lips whenever the girl hugged her too tight that she'd feel her back cracking most times.

 

“It does smell nice,”

 

Irene had visited too many stores to try on shades of lipstick that when Yerim decided to play with lip gloss instead, she never complained; the scent was often pleasant to her nose.

 

She thought that she had tried on every lip balm out there considering Yerim's fascination with painting every possible product on her. She had never smelled an orange as pungent as Seulgi's.

 

“Here, I'll put it on for you, unnie.”

 

Irene had let her, leaning over so she'd be easier for the taller girl to reach. Irene had busied herself from the silence, rubbing her thumb across the cold surface of her coffee cup as she waited for Seulgi to finish applying orange along her lips.

 

“Do you...ever miss your ex, unnie?”

 

Irene's eyes had snapped up to discern the frown on Seulgi's face. The taller girl hadn't looked at her, her focus steadied on her mouth for a canvas.

 

She hadn't known what to say, especially since Seulgi still had her lips under her care, so she only hummed.

 

“I can't tell what that means, unnie.” Seulgi had giggled, before shifting back, as if to admire her work. “How is it, unnie? Do you like it?”

 

Irene pursed her lips, tasting specks of orange, distinctly as strong to taste as it was to smell. It felt like Seulgi even – mutely present, yet loudly noticeable.

 

“It's fruity. Orange fits you more.”

 

“What's yours?”

 

“Vanilla.”

 

Seulgi had nodded, humming cheerily as she stuffed the tube back in her bag.

 

“Yeah, that's how I imagine you'd taste, unnie.”

 

Irene had choked on air at Seulgi's poor excuse of a wink, covering her mouth to muffle her surprise as Seulgi chortled, slapping her own stomach.

 

“You're as bad as Sooyoung.”

 

“Joy? What's her flavor?”

 

Irene had taken a second to recall the deep red Joy would normally wear. It was certainly a different shade from Yerim's signature color.

 

“She prefers bright red lipstick. She said it makes a point to show she's not someone you'd ignore.”

 

Seulgi had nodded along like she understood completely, a wistful smile having tugged her lips.

 

“She's hard to miss.”

 

Irene was tempted to pursue that line of topic, especially with how Seulgi had agreed so readily. She didn't think Seulgi would notice Sooyoung as well as she did – not when the giant made it explicitly clear that Seulgi would never be interested in her.

 

“How do you do it, unnie?”

 

Irene remembers having glanced up to see curiosity paint a broken smile on Seulgi's face.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Work, go to school – do everyday things knowing the one you used to love is as close as a five-minute walk?”

 

Irene hums, staring at her cup of cold coffee.

 

“Keywords are 'used to'.”

 

“So what if you still do?”

 

“Then I'd take that five-minute walk and visit every day.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Irene knew Seulgi was referring to her ex. They had never explicitly talked about her, though Irene wasn't at all surprised considering she had let her feelings show back at the restaurant like an announcement on a radio.

 

“...No.”

 

One thing was clear throughout that silent gap that Seulgi's question left in its wake: it didn't sound like she loved Yerim enough to take that five-minute walk every day.

 

“Anyways, that wasn't what I called you here for.”

 

Irene kept mum under the girl's twinkling eyes that suddenly filled up with mischief, vaguely aware because it must be a mistake – how could she not love Yerim that much?

 

Seulgi had a grin so wide that Irene had briefly wondered (amidst the storm in her own head of red lipstick and coffee kisses) if she had just signed up for something regrettable.

 

“Wen's birthday is coming up soon and I was wondering if you knew what she'd like.”

 

It had triggered memories of conversations she's had with Seungwan, paving way through phantom nails of Yerim’s touches along her skin to whisk in Seungwan’s thoughtful expression instead; a light hue of pink pursed lips and crinkled fuzzy eyebrows.

 

Seungwan had been shy over discussing birthday presents (though understandably they were still getting to know each other at the time). Irene wasn’t surprised at all considering it was a topic about what a person would want and Seungwan was the type to think about others over herself.

 

_“Are you sure you don’t need a hat, Joohyun? It’ll be chillier later today,”_

_Irene hadn’t been ready for Seungwan’s close proximity. They were getting better in terms of intruding one’s personal space, but Irene still needed time to get accustomed to the fact that Seungwan initiated everything that had to do with taking care of one’s well-being._

_She wasn’t used to being fussed over so carefully._

_“No, I’m sure.” Irene had been quick to dismiss the concern clearly etched over worried eyes, “I have a scarf anyway,” she had raised an end then, attempting to tickle Seungwan in an effort to stave off the wrinkles on her forehead. “And you still haven’t answered my question about birthday presents.”_

_When Seungwan didn’t budge, Irene figured she’d have to turn it over, gesturing to the shorter woman instead._

_“What about you? You need to cover yourself up too, Seungwan.”_

_Seungwan had pouted then, dangling a beanie between her fingers, tugging at Irene’s hand to take it; she had completely ignored the words that left her mouth._

_“Bring it with you just in case, okay?”_

 

Needless to say, Irene couldn’t win over curved lips and vibrant eyes that colored worry with every batting eyelash.

 

“Why don't you come over? Have a sleepover with Seungwan?”

 

“…Wait, really? I can?”

 

Irene had hummed then, playing with the rim of her cup, dancing a finger along its porcelain skin.

 

“I don't see why not. Besides, it’ll be my birthday present for you too, since you never told me yours was on the same month.” Irene nudged Seulgi’s leg beneath the table, grinning at the taller girl’s tongue sticking out. “It'll be fun.”

 

Seulgi had laughed before taking another sip of her coffee.

 

On the nights where Seungwan and her had laid in bed together (which was every night that Seungwan wasn’t over at Seulgi’s), waiting for sleep to draw curtains over tired eyes, they would talk about whatever came to mind.

 

They had discussions about the weather, school, and work. Most were mundane things really, but on special nights when the room is just a tad colder and they can’t help but hold on just a little closer, Irene would learn specks of Seungwan that hid under a rigid shell.

 

Irene had stumbled on a pavement Seungwan hardly mentions during the day, having talked about holding sleepovers prior to moving in to their shared apartment; that most days, Seungwan didn’t want to feel alone and had invited Seulgi over for company.

 

She figured that Seungwan would want that for her birthday; besides, who wouldn’t want their best friend over?

 

Before she could brace herself, Irene choked from Seulgi's bear hug, wincing at the taller girl's squeaky squealing.

 

“Thanks Joohyun unnie!”

 

Irene had laughed under that signature warmth of coconut and orange, happy to have another friend worth cherishing.

 

-

 

Irene hadn't known what to get Seungwan for her birthday.

 

She had wanted to give Seungwan something special (sleepovers seemed more like Seulgi's thing).

 

But what?

 

Irene had considered asking for Sooyoung's advice, though she immediately refrained as soon as Sooyoung began sending smooching sounds over the phone.

 

Yerim was an option but the younger girl wasn't picking up her calls. When she had asked Sooyoung about it, the taller woman had said she was busy studying.

 

_“I think you've been replaced by her textbooks, unnie.”_

 

Irene hadn't minded; it was great that Yerim was studious – her future had always been bright.

 

Her idea of a perfect present came when she played with the clinking sound of her metal lighter.

 

Irene hadn't been looking for comfort in puffs of smoke. Her lungs hadn't inhaled a cigarette in a while, having stashed the box in a drawer in the kitchen, her lighter a keepsake that Seungwan now owned.

 

Irene remembers stumbling for words with Seungwan looking so lost at her, clearly confused as to why she had called her into her room that one evening on the shorter woman's birthday.

 

_When she had finally found her tongue, Irene was proud it didn't reflect the nervous waves in her chest._

 

_“When I get hurt, I smoke to forget.” Irene had tapped gently on the top of the metal casing, her lighter a comfortable presence in her hand. “But with you, I've forgotten what it's like to get hurt.”_

 

_Surprise was written so deeply in her roommate's face that Irene had momentarily wondered if it'd stick permanently on her skin._

_She remembers passing Seungwan her lighter, not forgetting to help close the shorter girl's mouth with a finger beneath her chin._

 

_“So happy birthday, Seungwan. Thanks for being my cigarette.”_

 

Irene hadn't meant to be thinking about that moment (she hadn’t meant to be thinking so much about everything, really) they shared in her bedroom when her roommate was currently staring at her like she was looking for a kiss.

 

“Coffee again, Hyun? I bet you taste like it now too, what with your obsession every morning.”

 

Her bluntness startles her, but it doesn't stop Irene from speaking out on it.

 

“I think I'm getting over it, but besides that, wouldn't _you_ like to know?”

 

“I would, actually.”

 

Irene begins to see red lights blaring in her mind's eye, a cluster of signs that scream for her to stop everything; especially when Seungwan has eyes that appear to reflect what she wants, buried deep in her chest, waiting to come out.

 

Irene had been touchier with Seungwan in the past few weeks for two reasons: one, because she wanted to and two, because she could smell someone else on her skin and Irene couldn't fathom it to be true.

 

So she held Seungwan whenever she could: on the couch, in bed, in the kitchen – Irene hadn't felt ashamed for it; she was glad Seungwan hadn't been either. It had told her that Seungwan didn't mind being close to her and usually that would've calmed her anxious thoughts, but every time Seungwan was wrapped in her arms Irene knew she had already been held even closer by someone who wasn't her.

 

Irene made sure she wasn't just imagining it; again and again, attempting to take whiffs of familiar peach shampoo that they both shared (because Seungwan loved hers for how silky it made her hair) and only recognizing orange that had always been for Seulgi instead.

 

Irene had figured that it wasn't much to think about. Seulgi was a hugger and she was often a victim to her arms too.

 

But when she held Seungwan behind the kitchen counter, watching her chop vegetables and humming to a song she didn't recognize, Irene spotted litters of swollen circles splotched near the back of her neck, hidden right behind her shoulder (her shirt was drooping to the side; a sliver of skin that exposed so much).

 

Irene knew what a hickey looked like. After all, she had sketched plenty over Yerim's skin, colored in various shades of red, remembering how much Yerim had whined over them but never complained in bed.

 

Irene had known then that Seungwan was Seulgi's to touch and it finally gave herself reasons not to try and kiss her anymore.

 

She had wished it wasn't true.

 

Every time she held Seungwan close, Irene had wished that it was all a lie – that Seungwan didn't smell like Seulgi had meshed their skins together. It was hard though.

 

It was hard not to imagine them in bed together, shredding their clothes apart and etching “I love you” in every kiss they'd share, “I want you” in every scraping fingernail, and “I need you” in every sound that would leave their lips for the walls to hear.

 

Because how could she want someone this much if Seungwan was already with another?

 

“You can't do this to me,” Irene mumbles, attempting to get away from Seungwan as fast as she can. “You shouldn't be doing this to me...” Irene is already on her feet to run, _anywhere,_ until Seungwan is gripping her arm, forcing her eyes back on savory pink lips. “Please don't do this to me, Seungwan...”

 

Irene couldn't remember a time she had begged this much. She hadn’t even begged for Yerim.

 

“Don't make me come up with reasons not to kiss you if you're just going to turn them all into a giant excuse.”

 

She had held back for so long; there was no way she would let Seungwan ruin it for her. Not a chance.

 

But then suddenly Seungwan tugs her back a little too hard and Irene can't help but be weak under her voice.

 

“Then stop making up reasons for your excuses and kiss me.”

 

And she does.

 

When Irene kisses her – finally, _finally_ kisses her, she is looking for Seungwan underneath that fruity orange that reminds her of someone else.

 

Irene attempts to scrape the orange off, erase the smell of someone that shouldn't be so embedded into Seungwan's skin, the taste that shouldn't be written on Seungwan's lips.

 

When the orange wouldn't leave Seungwan's mouth, Irene moves lower, hopes that her body wouldn't have traces of Seulgi marred over them too.

 

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.”

 

Irene tries to convince herself not because she was thinking of Yerim (though she should be – she _is_ her first love after all), but because Seulgi was everywhere in every shred of skin Irene could taste – _could smell._

 

Coconut floats through her nose even when she buries her face into Seungwan's neck, faint peach that they both shared a fleeting cloud under Seulgi's distinct scent. Irene attempts to scratch it off, biting on flesh that makes Seungwan whimper – a sound that makes Irene's chest tremor, her stomach shaking of butterflies bouncing against its walls.

 

Seungwan gives her chaos in the way she'd moan against Irene's mouth, tangle her fingers in Irene's hair, yanking at Irene's heart with every call of her name spilling like sin from her lips—

 

“Hyun...”

 

Irene is relieved that Seulgi isn't in Seungwan's voice, too.

 

It makes Irene's bones shiver, how Seungwan’s tongue folds over her name, her fingers hungry for the heat on Seungwan's skin, crawling nails under her shirt so Seungwan would pull her closer – mewl under her touch.

 

Irene’s charting her like a new world, keeping track of lines that contour along Seungwan’s hips, to the soft surface of her belly. Her lips map the edges of Seungwan’s collarbones, to the arched skin of her neck.

 

Irene focuses on the sound of Seungwan's voice, calling for her, groaning against her – tugging at her heart to kiss her deeper. It masks the coconut and orange that still lingers across Seungwan’s skin, or at least, just enough for Irene to pretend that Seulgi hadn't already left love marks on her first.

 

Seungwan’s eyelashes dances along her cheek when Seungwan brings back their lips for a searing kiss, painfully slower than the rest, as if she wants to taste her heart through it too. Irene returns her fever want with her own, looking for Seungwan under deep orange – much like how she'd attempt to find Yerim in every coffee she’d drink.

 

But just like Yerim, Irene can't find Seungwan when Seulgi is all she could taste.

 

Irene can feel crushing disappointment cripple her lungs, much like the first time she realized Yerim wasn't coming back.

 

As much as she doesn't want to stop feeling for Seungwan's hot skin, delightfully burning under her palm, Seungwan's bra strap teasingly stuck between her eager fingers, Irene needs to breathe.

 

She forces her other hand to search for an anchor to her want, to help quiet the desire piling up in her chest at every panting breath Seungwan is pressing against her lips; she’s slowly kissing away what little logic Irene has left.

 

Her fingers tremble over the door lock.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

“Three...”

 

She breathes out, attempts to clear her head even when Seungwan’s mouth is still fluttering against hers.

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

To think even her mind is beginning to play games in her head, reeling back pictures and sounds that she'd like to take and hear over and over again.

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

Irene needs to hear the lock again.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

 _Six,_ Irene counts to herself, watching how Seungwan's eyes have cleared.

 

The short moment they share gives Irene time to both memorize the red flush on Seungwan's cheeks (how she’s breathing lungfuls of air), and remind herself of why she stopped in the first place.

 

Seulgi was tattooed into her skin; no tight hugs were capable of marring someone else's scent so deeply. There was no way she would play homewrecker to an established relationship – no matter how much Seungwan may try to deny it.

 

So Irene shifts back, just enough so Seungwan's lips don't bump against her own with every shaking breath and forces out an assumption that she wishes to not be true.

 

“Why do you taste like the same orange lip balm Seulgi always wears?”

 

The silence that follows is eating her up.

 

Irene watches Seungwan's lips quiver, sees how her throat swallows nervous fear; Seungwan is suddenly anxious and it gets Irene to feel it too.

 

She repeats it again for the both of them.

 

“Why do you taste like the same orange lip balm Seulgi always wears?”

 

The repetition must’ve startled the gears in the shorter girl's limbs because now she's inching closer and Irene can't help but step back.

 

Irene doesn't miss how panic colors Seungwan's eyes, catching her roommate's gaze fluttering to her feet that keeps their distance the same.

 

Seungwan sounds frantic.

 

“I-I – It's nothing like that! She just— she leant it to me because she said my lips get chapped easily so...”

 

Irene would've believed her. Really, it wouldn't have been much of a surprise considering that Seulgi had gotten her to try it on too.

 

But that wouldn't explain the hickeys she'd find on Seungwan's skin.

 

Seungwan's grip is suddenly latching onto the end of her sleeve.

 

“Joohyun, really. It's _nothing_ —”

 

“Am I not worth the truth?”

 

Irene's not sure how to feel.

 

Should she be angry? Sad? It wasn't like she didn't know. Deep down, Irene knew there was something between Seulgi and Seungwan (all that orange and coconut on Seungwan's skin were blaring red lights) – she just couldn’t _believe it_.

 

If anything, she wanted to blame them both for not telling her.

 

How could Seulgi call her over for coffee talks to talk about anything and everything without telling her this? How could Seungwan spend every single day with her (especially when Irene would hold her close) and never once bring it up?

 

Or did they know she was feeling something for Seungwan and were waiting for her to screw up?

 

 _No,_ they weren't the type to do that. They wouldn't do that. They would never.

 

“No – Joohyun, of course you are!”

 

Seungwan's grip only tightens against her sleeve, even bringing another hand to latch onto her forearm.

 

Irene wants her to let go already.

 

“Then why are you lying to me?”

 

Her voice doesn't tremble; she's glad. She might not be able to take her heart being so open as it was already.

 

Irene watches how Seungwan's eyes widen in fractions. She watches how desperation drapes over pools of brown, spotting Seungwan's mouth tremor for words.

 

“It's – it's not that simple,”

 

Sometimes, Irene thinks that Yerim would say the same thing if she ever asked her why she left, or at least, give her some other variation of it (it'd explain why she's so afraid of asking).

 

Irene prides herself in her stubborn patience though; that maybe if she waits long enough, they'd volunteer to share their perspective on things.

 

Then again, it's not like anyone is obligated to tell her things, much like how she doesn't have to say anything herself either.

 

Seungwan is biting her lip, wandering eyes flicking everywhere else but at her. She's well aware of how Seungwan's fingers still grip her sleeves, watching them shake under their chokehold.

 

Seungwan’s tremor limbs mirror the struggle her lips have with words, how it mouths syllables yet not a sound would come out. When she starts to resort to her ticking finger against her sleeve, Irene knows that the truth can wait.

 

A small smile breaks along Irene’s lips, cradling Seungwan's hands into her own, attempting to stop the trembling along Seungwan's skin.

 

“Joohyun...?”

 

She laughs a little at Seungwan's bewildered look, mouth agape with eyes so wide that Irene swears she could count the specks of surprise coloring them.

 

If Seungwan doesn't want to tell her, then it's fine. She might not be able to handle the truth out loud, anyway. At least, not when she still wants to kiss Seungwan.

 

“When did you go from being my roommate to replacing the person behind every coffee I'd drink?”

 

“Joohyun...”

 

Irene still feels baffled even when she's already said it out loud. To think she tolerated a drink she hated so much to look for someone who would never be there, only to be swiped off already by someone else – it was terrifying.

 

But despite all the garbled mess tearing up inside her chest of words that want to be said, Irene can't arrange them enough to be coherent.

 

Not when she's feeling herself fall back in, leaning closer so their lips breathe air between them again.

 

She sees how Seungwan's eyes have fluttered to her mouth, half-lidded as if to close and Irene wants nothing more than to seal them up for another bruising kiss.

 

But orange still floats into her lungs and it's more than enough for Irene to remember Seungwan is already Seulgi's.

 

“…We still have shopping to do.”

 

She mutters instead, blinking her want away.

 

Irene's about to move until Seungwan is gripping her sweater, eyes back to their color of fear.

 

“Seulgi's not...”

 

Irene waits for Seungwan to finish it – have her gather even just a little bit of courage that had been with her for the past few days. When it doesn't come, Irene hopes to ease the frustration she sees in Seungwan's crinkled brows with another small laugh.

 

Just so she could prove to Seungwan that there was nothing to worry about, she settles for the skin just below Seungwan's lips, kissing gently.

 

“Come on, maybe they have that purple roommate sweater I've been wanting for so long.”

 

Irene watches Seungwan blink turmoil away, much like how Irene seals their conversation into a box to leave untouched for the remainder of the day in the way she fixes Seungwan's hair and clothes.

 

Seungwan joins in on their muted treaty, mumbling softly. But Irene can feel Seungwan's fingers tremble against her sleeve.

 

“…Okay,”

 

Irene wonders if it's alright to hold her hand when the meaning has changed.

 

She tries not to reach out for Seungwan's fingers, nodding to herself, muttering just as quietly.

 

“Okay.”

 

She ushers Seungwan out of the apartment, guiding her with extravagant wave gestures and a grin that Irene expects Seungwan to take for humor instead of an excuse to not hold her hand.

 

Irene doesn't miss how Seungwan's fingers tremble to tug her close, as if to bring back the lack of gap between their skin. She ignores the hesitant curl around her pinky finger.

 

Irene's relieved when they make it to her car, breaking the weak latch of Seungwan's skin tied around her finger with the convenient excuse of getting to the driver's seat.

 

Now if only she could just keep her hand from Seungwan's reach when she switches gears.

 

-

 

Click.

 

Joy mutters a curse under her breath, clicking her tongue at the image of a blurry blob at the center of an orange sundown.

 

The darn bird flew away.

 

Combing a hand through her hair, Joy supposes it's not that bad; it adds some mystery to the picture, though a smarter photographer might know that it was a silly mistake instead (some beauty came about from mistakes so it shouldn't be so bad).

 

She'll just find something else to take a picture of.

 

“Joy!”

 

The sound of her name makes her freeze near the railing, her ears quick to pick up a voice she doesn’t want to hear any time soon.

 

Wha— no. It can't be.

 

She doesn't dare turn around, not when her legs have stilled like her feet have melted on snowy pavement.

 

“Hey! Are you on your way home?”

 

Crap. It sounds like her. It _can't_ be.

 

It's as if her limbs have gotten startled at how fast that voice was closing in on her, jolting her feet off the ground to whisk herself away from someone who very much should stay out of her life _forever._

 

“Are you in a hurry? Hey!” Joy goes rigid at a grip on her elbow, clenching her teeth at the foreign warmth. “Joy, are you ignoring me?”

 

Joy can't help but breathe in a tank of air, immediately holding her breath once Seulgi enters her peripheral, finding herself twisting around at Seulgi's hold.

 

_Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid bear face with her stupid bun hair._

 

“Aren't you going to say hi?”

 

Joy wants to slap that annoying grin off her face, scoffing as she whips her arm back, wrenching it away so she can't feel Seulgi's touch any longer than necessary.

 

“Can you go pollute the air someplace else? It's getting harder to breathe now that you're here.”

 

She knows Seulgi's as dense as a rock so it doesn't surprise her when the shorter girl laughs like she had just told the funniest joke. It probably is though, now that she thinks about it. Joy wants to laugh with her.

 

“Am I that breathtaking, Joy? Come on, you can be honest with me.”

 

Joy hardly finds it easy to pretend butterflies aren't flapping their stupid wings in her stomach when Seulgi is wiggling a playful eyebrow at her, leaning in closer as if she isn't making Joy go red both inside and out.

 

“Don't flatter yourself. It doesn't suit you.” Joy tucks her camera back in her bag, sparing herself a few precious seconds to cool off her cheeks. “Just leave that to me.”

 

She means it as 'I'm better at self-flattery so don't even try' but Joy doesn't consider it a mistake until Seulgi is cooing at her, tapping a finger against her nose like they're suddenly best friends for life.

 

“Aww that's so sweet of you! I'll be looking forward to hearing them from you then.”

 

Joy's never felt her eyes widen this much – she feels like they'll pop right out of their sockets. Seulgi's misinterpretation has her heart stuttering at the bulls-eye implication and it's making her brain scramble for words to scratch that off clean.

 

“I-I – no! That's not what I—”

 

“Joy – stuttering? That's new, but cute.”

 

Joy swears that someone's been writing letters to Satan on how to torture her. How cruel. She wants to murder someone for how red her ears feel now too (surely her face was more than enough of a victim already).

 

She snorts, turning on her heel to stalk off because sticking around any longer would only bring her to her grave.

 

Joy hates hearing how Seulgi is trailing after her, the sounds of her footsteps eerily echoing after hers, crunching against the snow – a crashing reminder that Seulgi isn’t leaving her alone.

 

She’s about to look her way to tell her off when Seulgi taps her arm.

 

“Why didn't you say hi? When you took that picture...”

 

Joy doesn’t register that she had stopped moving until Seulgi abruptly pauses near her, standing rigid with flailing arms and wobbling on her toes to keep from ramming into her.

 

Joy pretends she doesn’t feel her hand motion to reach out and help Seulgi stay steady, keeping it shoved deep into the wedge of her jacket pocket.

 

It takes a few seconds to realize that Seulgi’s referring to the candid photo of her by the restaurant’s window.

 

“Now why would I do that?”

 

When Seulgi finally catches herself, her arms lowering by her sides, Joy is slightly disappointed at the opportunity she had forced herself to ignore.

 

Seulgi is shuffling her feet, scratching her cheek that Joy has to look away because _she shouldn't be this cute._

 

“Well, we might've been friends sooner, right?”

 

Hell no. That would've been _worse._

 

“Not a chance,” Joy quips, her boots cracking snow again.

 

She hears Seulgi jog to keep up with her pace, inwardly groaning at her pestering.

 

“How would you know? We're friends now aren't we? Why would then be any different?”

 

“Because.”

 

“Because...?”

 

Joy shrugs. She needs to find another distraction – _anything._

 

Seulgi sighs beside her.

 

“Why are you being so difficult, Joy?”

 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the irony. Maybe she should take her phone out and pretend someone called her – or she should just call up someone. Anyone.

 

“Why are you bothering me?”

 

“I bother you?” Seulgi mumbles beside her, sounding delicate that it strikes a sensitive nerve in Joy’s chest.

 

Joy keeps mum, playing with the edges of her cellphone in her pocket and bouncing around a list of pros and cons of calling for help.

 

“Why does it feel like you'd rather be anywhere else but here, talking to me?”

 

She pauses briefly just so she could face Seulgi and be done with it.

 

“Because that's exactly how I feel.”

 

Joy doesn’t want anything to do with Seulgi anymore. She thought it was clear enough already with the picture she had given: an act of companionship to encourage Seulgi to be happy again. There was nothing more to be said and Joy was certainly not looking for some long-term commitment under the so-called label of ‘friends’.

 

Joy likes her small comfy triangle consisting of just Joohyun and Yeri. She doesn’t need more.

 

“Why? Aren't we friends?”

 

Joy searches for some sort of ulterior motive under Seulgi’s expression; a picture containing only a nervous smile and curious eyes.

 

“Why does this even matter to you? What do you want?”

 

“I want to know why you're acting like you hate me when you gave me that picture like you care.”

 

Joy snorts. She’s better off walking away.

 

Seulgi is persistent though.

 

“Why do you look like you want to run away from me?”

 

“Because I do.” Joy stops just so she could glare down at the shorter woman, make her message as clear as the ice on a sunny day. “Can I go now?”

 

Joy spins around to walk off, go anywhere else but here – far, _far,_ away from Seulgi; her rib cage can't take the marathon in her heart.

 

But Seulgi grips at her wrist like a cage and forces her to look at her, to see the desperation lining pools of brown.

 

“I'm sorry if I did something wrong. Whatever it is, I'll fix it – just tell me, please?”

 

Joy wonders how Seulgi could do this to her – how a girl who didn't seem like she could hurt an ant was torturing her with shards between her ribs to stab at her feelings that have welled up in her lungs.

 

Joy hates how she's losing precious air because Seulgi's looking at her like she's someone she cares about.

 

“Just stop crying.” Joy curls her fingers beneath Seulgi's titan grip. “You're ugly when you cry.”

 

Seulgi blinks, confusion welling up in her eyes that Joy laughs it off, waving a hand.

 

“Or keep crying, it doesn't really matter to me. I don't care.”

Joy peels off Seulgi's weakening grip, feeling oxygen gradually return to her lungs as she steps back to twist around. She doesn't want to look at her – doesn't want to see her anymore.

 

Joy has already shown Seulgi everything she could do to help her with that simple picture of her by the window; what else was there to say? If she sticks around any longer, spend more time with her than absolutely necessary, Joy knows she'll be voluntarily putting herself into a deep dark pit and she is not dumb enough to do that.

 

She hears Seulgi scoff and when she thinks about it, it's the first time Joy has heard her voice without a plastic smile painted in it.

 

“Why can't you just say 'I don't like seeing you cry'?”

 

The gears must've shut off in her chest because Joy can't feel herself breathe, the thoughts in her head crackling out to nothing.

 

What did she just say?

 

Joy spins around once she's got her legs to finally cooperate, catching Seulgi grin at her before shooting off towards her. The taller girl barely manages to react, eyes widening every fraction before choking at the pressure of Seulgi's arm around her shoulders.

 

She's finding herself twisting around at the impact, stumbling on patches of snow as Seulgi cackles beside her, hugging her close.

 

“Let's go eat out. My treat, okay?”

 

She dodges Seulgi's smiling eyes that attempt to catch her gaze, not liking the warmth on her side mixing to fill in against her jacket and into her skin.

 

Joy's about to sputter her protest, scrambling to unlatch the grip around her until Seulgi is mumbling like she's whispering a secret only the two of them would understand.

 

“I'll try not to cry. I promise.”

 

Joy only rolls her eyes.

 

Happiness rarely comes. So when it does, Joy can't help but attempt to find fault in it.

 

-

 

Irene's lungs choke with want.

 

It's as if her chest had been wrapped around in chains of Seungwan's gaze, her lungs barely able to squeeze and pull in enough air that she's finding herself coping through her mouth instead.

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

It's back again, as if to haunt her; a constant reminder that won't leave her alone ever since she's tasted Seungwan.

 

She had been fine at the beginning (thankfully not when she was driving), but as soon as they stepped out of her car, with Seungwan attempting to touch her fingers again, her skin lit the images in her head like a trigger.

 

Irene’s hand quickly works the clasp around her neck, unlatching the button of her jacket so she could loosen her collar, yanking at the shirt to at least not coil around her skin so closely.

 

Irene can feel how dry her throat is, swallowing desperately to moisten the walls as she strides through the revolving doors of the mall, keenly aware that her roommate could probably see her discomfort (it's hard not to; she's been fiddling with her collar for a while now).

 

She can hear Seungwan trail behind her, the clacking of her boots a signature tune amidst the clattering steps of strangers flitting by. As much as the open space of the building's interior is far from the tight spaces of the elevator just a few moments ago, Irene's still feeling like the walls are closing in on her.

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

It comes along with every motion Seungwan makes to link their hands together, her throat tightening up again at the timid touch of her roommate's fingers.

 

“Oh, m-maybe this store has it?”

 

Irene stammers, hastening in pace, retracting her free hand to find solace in her coat pocket, far away from Seungwan's probing reach.

 

But the grazed heat along her skin is still warm, a burning reminder that it's the twenty-second time Irene has rejected her (she keeps count even when she doesn't want to; a masochistic timetable to etch guilt deeper with each increase in number).

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

Desperate for a distraction, anything really, to keep her mind off the fact that Seungwan's still trying to hold on to her, feeling warmth melt into her forearm, Irene staggers for the clothing section. Maybe seeing her favorite color will help ease the chaos (of wanting Seungwan – _so much_ ) in her head.

 

“Four weeks,” Irene pauses beside a pile of colorful sweaters, ears perking up at Seungwan's wavering voice. “…It's been four weeks since I started dating Seulgi.”

 

Irene almost laughs. She was right.

 

She watches Seungwan's face through the mirror on her left, not wanting to turn around in fear that she'd crumble; but those lips—

 

_(“Hyun…”)_

 

She wonders if she could handle hearing this.

 

Seungwan's heeled boots clack a step closer behind her, signaling Irene to take a step forward, pretending she's flitting through the sizes of a red sweater.

 

“Four weeks since I first started trying not to count thoughts of her away.” Irene barely registers the soft cotton under her fingers, “But it's been months since I first started kissing you – when you're asleep! Y-You wouldn't know, of course...” She buries the surprise beneath pursed lips, attentive to hear more. “...and sometimes, I would wonder when you'd wake up to one.”

 

She watches Seungwan fidget with the ends of her jacket sleeves, her shoulders clenched together near her neck, her expression hiding behind curtains of auburn.

 

“I-It would usually be a kiss on the cheek, sometimes forehead, and when you didn't wake up the first time, I...thought that it'd be okay – to kiss you for every morning I woke up with you still there next to me.” Irene pretends she doesn't feel her heart rattling in her chest. “You always looked so cute when you were asleep...I'm sorry I couldn't resist.”

 

She can't handle hearing this; her throat is closing up again.

 

Irene wrenches her collar, feeling a button pop open – but it still feels _so tight._

 

“I understand if you find it creepy. I'd be creeped out too and that's why sometimes...sometimes, I wished you'd wake up to catch me so you could scold me for it.”

 

Irene grits her teeth at the claws Seungwan continues to scrape along her throat; it worsens when Seungwan's pressing against her back, feeling her roommate’s forehead rest between her shoulder blades.

 

“...So you could make me stop and I wouldn't have to spend each morning wondering if it was what a roommate would do and convincing myself that it was.”

 

Irene hates how she could see Seungwan so broken through the mirror.

 

Customers barely register their presence, being conveniently hidden at a corner of the store, the tall shelves of various sizes of jeans playing as a curtain to their intimacy.

 

Irene attempts to walk away, pretend that Seungwan isn't begging for her to stay, until hesitant arms wrap around her stomach, Seungwan's fingers torturously latching on.

 

How cruel.

 

“Seungwan—” Irene starts, gulping a lard of emotions that have nestled in her throat.

 

“I thought you told me to get used to it,” Seungwan is curling fists against her, watching how her jacket is coiled between her fingers. “You told me to not let go – that you won't be complaining about it.” Irene inhales sharply at Seungwan's mouth drawing against her back, muffled words that still manages to be clear in her ears. “...A-Are you taking them back?”

 

_(“Get used to it, and don't let go. It's not like I'll be complaining anyway.”)_

 

It's amazing how they're re-enacting a moment in time where they barely knew each other. Now here they were, where Irene's confident enough to know what food Seungwan likes, to the way she'd snatch all the blankets in her sleep, leaving Irene to cuddle tighter for the heat Seungwan kept to herself.

 

“...Don't be like this to me, please...”

 

Seungwan's whimper has Irene tugging at her collar again, biting her lip at the fact that even when she's already heard that line once before, it still manages to reel her back in like a bird to a snare.

 

But even when she's trying to convince herself that she shouldn't be this soft anymore, it takes a quick glance at Seungwan's whitening fists at her stomach to stop the charade.

 

At least, for a little bit.

 

Irene pretends she doesn't hear Seungwan sniff like she's been crying, placing a hand over titan fingers. She hopes her voice doesn't come out as scratchy as the walls she feels in every swallow she takes.

 

“...I'll try.”

 

For now, as she uncurls Seungwan around her, swiping off tear tracks staining her roommate's face and pretending it's not fueling an inferno in her chest, Irene tries not to kiss her again.

 

-

 

Joy's been trying to relax for the past fifteen minutes since they've arrived.

 

She wasn't this twitchy during their group date, though perhaps it helped that there were two other members contributing to diminish any awkward silences that attempted to creep in.

 

Sure, Joy tends to bask in tensions that had people fidgeting in their seats, squirming for ways to undo the chokehold air that tightens their throats, but not when she was part of the equation. She'd rather be the audience to every single clumsy-stumbling mess than be a part of one.

 

She thought Seulgi would be the type to break these silences though. But here she was, twiddling with her fork and poking at her napkin.

 

Joy would rather suffocate under Seulgi's curious stares than be stuck in a claustrophobic box filled with overwhelming _awkward._

 

“What do you do? Your job, I mean.”

 

Joy stops tapping on her leg with a fidgeting finger, looking up to see Seulgi boredly rub at the corner of her beige napkin.

 

How basic (it’s terrifying; she shouldn’t even _be_ here). Joy supposes it was a start though – anything was better than having nothing to talk about.

 

“I'm a photographer.”

 

“So you have models?”

 

Joy grins at the opportunity, a teasing smile creeping along her lips at the thought of Seulgi fidgeting in her seat. She might as well make her stay worthwhile.

 

“You can be one, you know.”

 

Seulgi reacts as expected, with flailing hands and a shaking head.

 

“N-No it’s okay! I’m short anyway,”

 

“Taller than Joohyun unnie,” Joy snorts at Seulgi’s instant laughter. “You’re already doing better. Though unnie _does_ have a prettier face...”

 

Seulgi slapping a napkin against her arm has Joy grinning up to her cheeks.

 

“You're so mean.”

 

_Not as mean as you,_

 

Joy keeps her mouth shut even when it can't help but smile at Seulgi's pouting.

 

When their food comes, the time they spend together is more pleasant than Joy expects. They share light chatter over typical things, learning more about each other than they ever did on their silly double date.

 

She learns how much Seulgi loves working as a mascot, and even if it's usually with rowdy kids, she's never felt happier.

 

Joy can feel herself relate; taking pictures have always been her favorite thing to do; she can't imagine ever leaving it for something else.

 

They really do talk like they're the best of friends; their chemistry startles Joy more than the time she found out Seulgi was in love with Joohyun's roommate.

 

It makes Joy want to run away.

 

“You know how you have certain friends who you can talk to about certain things, and another set of friends for those _other_ set of things?”

 

Seulgi asks amidst the various escape routes that Joy is currently wracking up inside her brain. She can't stay much longer – she'll get attached and when she gets attached—

 

“Like how you talk to Joohyun unnie for a ‘set of things’ and me for a different set of things?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

—Joy won't be able to let go.

 

“Sounds exhausting.” Joy eyes the way Seulgi is spinning her spoon in her cup of coffee. “So what can you tell me that you can't tell Joohyun unnie?”

 

“Are you sure? Because I’ll probably end up talking too much.”

 

Joy scoffs, brushing her hair back over her shoulder, before leaning against the table, chin in hand.

 

“It’s not like you haven’t already.”

 

Maybe she was as much of a masochist as Yeri says she is.

 

Seulgi is taking a deep breath and Joy can’t help but follow along.

 

“Every morning I'd look for her, expecting that tomorrow she'd be there to wake up right next to me. Sometimes it happens though, at sleepovers, and I'd try not to fall asleep because I want it to last longer.” Seulgi is fidgeting with her napkin again, a nervous tick that Joy’s already grown accustomed to. “Sometimes I wonder if I should stay with someone who wakes up with me today only to wake up to someone else tomorrow.”

 

Joy hums, listening to the tears left unshed in Seulgi's voice; so full that Joy wonders how she hasn't drown in them yet. It was sort of amazing; she'd like to think that Seulgi had enough buckets to fill with tears for the both of them.

 

Joy replies in a voice she herself hardly recognizes. It's too soft. Too warm. Too caring. She hopes it doesn't show.

 

“Then can I be your tomorrow, just for today?”

 

One, two, three beats of silence.

 

“What?”

 

It takes a few beats more – four, five, six, before Joy finally realizes how her heart had just peeked out for Seulgi to hear.

 

Joy recovers from her momentary slip with ease of a practiced tongue.

 

“It was just something I've been meaning to say but will never tell to someone who looks just like you. Except you know, prettier.”

 

Seulgi's widened eyes curve into those signature crescent moons; it makes Joy want to tell her that she really meant it for her to hear, instead.

 

“Why can't you just say 'I did it to make you feel better'? For someone who’s so straight-forward, you talk in circles a lot.”

 

Joy chuckles at Seulgi’s precision, right dead-center into a bulls-eye of a description that colors her whole. She’s never heard anyone describe her more accurately than that.

 

“I’m charming, aren’t I?”

 

Seulgi only laughs and Joy watches with an expression she knows the shorter girl can’t read.

 

It was never about making Seulgi feel better; Joy had done it for herself (much like all the other things she’s done in life).

 

So when anyone else bothers to tell her to confess (usually Yeri), Joy can finally say that she did; and that it never worked out.

 

This way, they won’t ever have to end when they never get to start in the first place.

 

-

 

They come home together like nothing has changed.

 

The images of Seungwan have disappeared – it's a relief Irene treasures for every moment she has with her roommate, not needing a picture of a panting Seungwan when she's making simple conversation.

 

Irene shuffles through, groceries in hand, flicking her shoes to settle in a line near the door. She laughs at Seungwan bumping her elbow against her guitar, a loud twang echoing in her ears along with Seungwan's whining “Ow,” as she stumbles past to settle her own luggage of bags onto the countertop.

 

They sift through them together without qualms, easing into the motions of replacing food cans and stuffing ingredients into the refrigerator, small chatter covering up a growing wall – almost like it wasn’t there.

 

The evening passes just like any other night – it’s almost reassuring how normal they still are.

 

Irene manages to keep her composure; it’s not that hard as long as Seungwan keeps herself away from her. She’s been able to dodge every chance Seungwan takes to get close to her: shifting away when Seungwan attempts to take her hand, training her gaze elsewhere whenever Seungwan starts to talk to her – it’s maddening though, how alert she is for every one of Seungwan’s movements.

 

“Are you...”

 

Irene looks up from her document filled with gibberish words at Seungwan's timid voice – something that has become prevalent again compared to her farce confidence she had adopted before.

 

Seungwan is standing by the door to her room, already dressed in her PJ’s compiled of a sweater and sweatpants, her hands hiding under the cuffs that extend past her fingers.

 

She watches Seungwan swallow like there's a lard of words stuck in her throat; it's not supposed to be attractive but here Irene is, wishing that the simple action doesn't make her gulp too (it does, of course).

 

Irene can't hold their gaze any longer when Seungwan is shuffling closer, keenly aware of the oversized blue roommate sweater Seungwan currently wears.

 

She remembers all too well the time she's teased Seungwan for their 'couple-shirt'.

 

“You should be sleeping Wan. It's late already.”

 

She wants Seungwan to stop trekking towards her, just so that she won't see the open Word document for what it currently is: a convenient excuse.

 

Seungwan's voice is raspy with exhaustion, hesitation lining each syllable that Irene hates how it's already making her crumble.

 

“...Are you not coming to bed yet?”

 

The question is simple enough – it shouldn't be making her think of kissing Seungwan again, holding her close, touching her, listening to how she gasps out her name—

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

But it does and Irene can't help but clench her teeth under sealed lips, grit out a reply that she hopes doesn't show she's imagining their bodies pressed tightly together under blue sheets.

 

It's back – _again._

 

“No.” Irene begins to type so she can't hear imaginary Seungwan in her head (the one in front of her is already more than enough). “I've still got a lab report to do.”

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

She tries not to shut her eyes when Seungwan's still watching her; Irene hates how it's a panting, sweaty, _groaning,_ Seungwan she's seeing in her screen and not the paragraphs she's typing up.

 

Stupid imagination.

 

“...Then I'll just wait for you.”

 

Irene's eyes snap up to see Seungwan send her a small smile before stalking towards her guitar by the door.

 

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

 

Seungwan isn't supposed to be waiting for her; they each have their own rooms anyway (Irene's suddenly aware of just how 'normal' it was to be sleeping together – Seungwan's nonchalance about it makes her heart drum louder); they should be using both rooms when they've been paying for two to begin with.

 

Suddenly Irene’s desperate to dismiss her.

 

“N-No, don't bother. I'll be up all night anyway so just—”

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

Irene presses shaking fingers against her eyes, breathing deeply, ignoring how her throat is so tight. She hopes Seungwan can't hear her swallow.

 

“— G-Go sleep.”

 

Irene is attempting to shoo her away, waving a hand to usher Seungwan out of the living room, hoping that distance will make the images – especially the _sounds,_ disappear.

 

“Then come with me. It's late,”

 

But the girl isn't listening and Irene has to even squeeze a fist against her thigh, keeping a free hand to clench her eyes shut.

 

Irene's too busy focusing on her breathing – inhale, exhale – before realizing the warmth that curls behind her ears, soothing circles drawing along her temples.

 

She feels Seungwan's breath dance against her hand, forcing Irene to peek between hesitant fingers at the sudden lack of distance that keeps them apart.

 

“Hyun...” It's automatic when Irene feels herself relax at Seungwan's touch, “...Come on, you look tired.”

 

The words barely register in her head; it's taking all her willpower not to yank Seungwan by the back of her head to kiss her again.

 

Seungwan is beautiful.

 

Her smile is glowing even when it's tiny. Her fringe is charmingly in disarray, scrambled against her forehead and eyebrows, almost draping like gentle curtains over eyes that pulls every burning thought Irene had at that moment away.

 

Seungwan's massages above her ears help ease the nerves; Irene can feel it in the way her fingers no longer tremble, the fist on her thigh uncurling.

 

It almost makes her forget why she's so desperate to get away.

 

Almost.

 

Irene prays her voice won't crack under Seungwan's eyes.

 

“I can't keep waking up to you if you're supposed to be waking up to someone else instead.”

 

The syllables come out more hoarse than she'd like, a strained whisper that had clawed at her throat for every word, but it's more than enough.

 

“W-What?”

 

Irene pretends she doesn't hear Seungwan's heart stuttering out, twisting away so she can't see how tears are welling up in Seungwan's eyes.

 

The act of sleeping together is innocent enough; Irene knows that. But it's different when she's no longer ignorant – Irene knows she wouldn't be getting any shut-eye if Seungwan's breathing next to her, arms wrapped around each other.

 

Irene doesn't trust herself enough to not touch her like that again.

 

She can feel Seungwan's fingers attempt to latch onto her sleeve when she stands, Seungwan's hand grazing weakly against the material. The timid touch has Irene second guessing herself, almost gets her to turn around, but when she spots the blue-dressed teddy bear on the sofa, Irene reminds her legs to walk away from her.

 

“Where are you going...?”

 

The anxiety in Seungwan’s voice returns; it reflects on how Irene's feet feel sluggish with each deliberate step she takes.

 

For now, she'll hide every mistake she's made and fix them later.

 

“You were right. The bear is really cuddly.”

 

Irene can feel her back burn under her gaze, but she can't tell if Seungwan's angry or happy about her peeking heart poking out of each syllable.

 

Irene plucks the bear off the couch, a smile curling against her lips at the softness of it. She appreciated its silent company – it was rather formidable against her love for laundry and fabric softener (though those will always be her number one).

 

“Joohyun?”

 

Irene strides back to her roommate, taking Seungwan's hands and having them wrap around the bear. Seungwan looking as lost as she felt at that moment would’ve made Irene laugh if it weren't for the fact that it was going to replace her.

 

“It's really soft to sleep with – even when I was on Sooyoung's couch. What more with an actual bed, right?”

 

She makes sure Seungwan’s fingers curl against its fur, ignoring the way their hands melt heat so quickly that Irene’s already feeling it crawling along her neck.

 

Seungwan sounds baffled, her whisper almost mute that Irene can’t help but lean just a little closer before catching herself.

 

“What are you trying to say…?”

 

She swallows so her throat isn’t so dry with the plea along her roommate’s eyes.

 

“It'll keep you company. It's soft to hug and it'll keep you warm – just like you said,” Irene pats the bear’s head for good measure, a distraction from Seungwan’s trembling lips. “I promise.”

 

Irene doesn't have to see the panic in her roommate's limbs, how Seungwan shifts closer to her; she can hear it bleed off Seungwan's voice from how her tongue wraps around her name like it's trying to hold her and never let go.

 

“Joohyun – no, what are you saying?”

 

Irene looks away when Seungwan's grips her arm, how her fingers dig a little into her sweater, her warmth melding with her own.

 

It'd be so easy – to pin Seungwan again, trace a kiss along the skin where her throat dips into collarbone.

 

She could do it.

 

“...Joohyun?”

 

Seungwan's desperately trying to climb over a growing wall that Irene is building again – one Irene hadn't ever imagined to break when Yerim had built it for her in the first place.

 

She bites her lip when Seungwan's closing in on her, ditching the teddy bear to wrap her arms around Irene's shoulders instead.

 

Seungwan is quaking against her, as if she were drenched with a winter’s cold.

 

“I'm saying,” Irene pats her back gently once, then twice. “Seulgi deserves better. So be better.”

 

Had it been anyone else Irene would never have given them the light of day; Seulgi is just as important as any of her closest friends. But Seungwan wasn't just 'anyone else' and Irene took pride in her own stubborn patience.

 

“I'll apologize to her when I have the chance,” Irene combs through her hair, an attempt at nonchalance (but all she wants to do is hold her close). “You should, too.”

 

Seungwan is taking a deep breath, squeezing harder, and it makes Irene breathe in so she'd ready herself too.

 

“I-I will. But, what would you be apologizing for?”

 

Irene feels her lips curl up at the corners, before listing her mistakes; one by one.

 

“For kissing you,” Irene pulls away, just enough so she could let herself breathe. “For touching you,” Irene curls a loose strand of auburn behind Seungwan's ear (she can’t resist her). “For wanting you,” her finger traces a line along the shorter girl's jaw, keenly aware of Seungwan's nervous swallow. “...And for thinking about how much I want to do it all over again.”

 

Irene bites at her lip, forcing her tongue to keep silent (she has already said too much), her eyes trailing the specks of curiosity in Seungwan's irises.

 

She takes Seungwan's stunned silence as an opportunity to finally get away.

 

Irene nudges Seungwan's forehead, poking gently, amused at the shorter girl attempting to blink confusion off her eyes.

 

“Goodnight, Wan.”

 

Once she's sure the bear is snuggled safely in Seungwan's arms, hoping it'll bring her roommate as much comfort as it did for her, Irene doesn't wait for Seungwan's goodnight.

 

Irene doesn't know when Yerim had given back her heart so that she could feel this way again for someone else. She doesn't want it – she doesn't know how to hold onto it again.

 

She wants to give it back to Yerim – to let her keep it. She was fine without it.

 

So until she finds Yerim, Irene makes sure Seungwan doesn’t take what’s left of it.

 

-

 

She's been mustering up the right words to say to Seulgi.

 

For the past few days, Irene has been dodging breakfast with Seungwan to spend her mornings at the café with a coffee she no longer needs to drink, wracking her brain for an apology.

 

Irene won't deny that she's been avoiding Seungwan; she's been trying to keep them exactly the way they should be: roommates.

 

She's aware Seungwan hasn't been sleeping well since, from the way she'd catch snippets of a groggy Seungwan, dark bags beneath her eyes, to the nights she'd hear Seungwan twisting the door lock open and close at 4 AM.

 

Irene's been tempted to help her out, offer to be at her bedside (because she knows Seungwan hates the cold), but whenever she's about to tell her that she'd be her support—

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

It would always come back.

 

So Irene makes breakfast for her before she leaves instead, knowing Seungwan's been waking up later and later (no doubt catching up on much needed rest).

 

Irene's used to functioning without sleep anyway.

 

She never forgets to leave a short note for her roommate; it'd be thoughtless of her to not greet her in the mornings, even if it's on paper.

 

Irene scribbles the words she's thought up for Seungwan today with a purple pen, leaving it beside a plate filled with eggs and bacon before slipping through the door, coat in hand.

 

It’s time to meet Seulgi.

 

-

 

“Ah, Joohyun unnie!”

 

Irene passes Seulgi a wave as the door chimes her presence. She shuffles through an aisle filled with clothes, the all-too-familiar blue dress a tattoo in her head.

 

Before Irene could say anything, she's swallowed up in a hug softer than anything she's ever felt, a bundle of furry brown blocking her eyesight.

 

“H-Hi, Seulgi...”

 

Irene manages to choke out, not quite complaining for the lack of oxygen in her lungs – it's a sweet gesture, albeit a little deadly.

 

When Seulgi finally lets go, Irene is gasping for air, remembering how Seungwan had been like this too at Sooyoung's double date. She was quite the hugger.

 

Seulgi is slapping her back.

 

“So what's up unnie? I was surprised you called to meet up with me so early in the morning.”

 

Irene coughs, attempting to regain her composure as Seulgi twists around to rearrange a pile of boxes. She's amazed at the taller woman's dexterity despite her costume's large fluffy hands.

 

“It's...” Irene swallows a lard of nerves in her throat. “...It's about Seungwan.”

 

“Wen-Wen?”

 

Irene hates how Seulgi's face is hidden under a bear mask. It's difficult to discern emotions out of a voice alone, especially when it's the eyes that tell the most. She's used to watching stiff expressions (Sooyoung is notorious for blank faces), but not one where there's nothing to see.

 

“What about Wendy?”

 

Irene will just have to rely on her ears; hopefully she's as good of a listener as Sooyoung's been saying.

 

“I kissed her.”

 

The room has gone mute.

 

Irene can hear the collective sounds of their breathing – as if they're both waiting for a pin to drop or a mistake to cut the fragile tether of their friendship.

 

Irene's searching through black beady eyes of a mascot's head, knowing that with each passing second there's a story being told on a face she can't see.

 

It's the quietest Seulgi's ever been.

 

And then furry-padded feet begin to take its first steps away.

 

“I'm here to say sorry,” Irene finds her voice, trailing quickly behind an unnerving silence. “I'm sorry for liking her and—”

 

“I'm not forgiving you when there's nothing to forgive.”

 

Irene pauses behind her when Seulgi bends down to rearrange a pile of overalls.

 

“But...”

 

“Don't be sorry for liking someone.” Seulgi's muffled voice is clear despite the barricade. “If anything, it's Wen-Wen's fault for being so likable.”

 

Seulgi stands again to face her, but nothing spills except a voice that sounds like she's not even a bit surprised.

 

But Irene catches Seulgi's shoulders shake and even if it's minuscule, it's all Irene needs to take initiative.

 

She steps forward, curling fingers under the mask, and lifts Seulgi's only line of defense to see eyes already squeezed shut and tears marking streams down her face.

 

With how close she is, Irene can hear Seulgi's silent whimpering, her teeth clenched so tightly that it's scary how Seulgi's been hiding it all to herself.

 

Irene swallows so she won't cry with her, playing as her pillar as she wipes the lines of pain off pink skin.

 

Seulgi's choked sobs breaks Irene apart.

 

“Don't tell Wendy I cried because of her, okay?”

 

Irene's already wrapping arms around her as Seulgi crumbles to the floor, following along so they're a mess beside open boxes of hats and that signature blue dress.

 

Seulgi's muffled wailing tears across her shoulder and into her bones, rattling her limbs that Irene's surprised her arm has yet to break off.

 

Seulgi's gripping fists at her jacket and as Irene massages her back, she apologizes for every mistake she's made (even if Seulgi insists otherwise).

 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...”

 

-

 

Joohyun doesn't sleep with her anymore.

 

They stopped sharing the bed for the past few days (and possibly counting) since their talk.

 

Suddenly Joohyun had set boundaries that were taller, wider, and thicker in length.

 

They say their goodnights across the living room instead of whispering between a tiny space that keeps their lips apart. They don’t spend time eating meals together, with Joohyun always claiming that she has assignments to be done.

 

They have been separated by a distance larger than an arm's length and it terrifies Wendy because Joohyun's doing it to help her love Seulgi.

 

Seulgi’s become a slave to an image Wendy used to have.

 

When she thinks about it, she is just as much under its reign as Seulgi – the two of them chasing an afterimage, grasping at smoke and hoping there's something solid to hold on to.

 

She’s not surprised when she leaves her room to find the apartment quiet.

 

The lack of sound haunts her and even when she can’t hear anything in her head, Wendy’s already bounding for the door, twisting the lock open and close.

 

Click. Click. Click – _three,_

 

She hasn’t gotten used to sleeping without Joohyun.

 

Every night she’d sit on her bed, listening in to the clacking of Joohyun’s keyboard and wondering if the woman would ever come in (whether it’d be a mistake, or a reflex, or even a desire – Wendy doesn’t care which) and staying up for as long as she could to find that Joohyun never does.

 

The fact that she’d leave her room’s door unlocked is a struggle in itself; Wendy can’t help but turn the lock open and close out of the itching knowledge that it isn’t locked (because what if some stranger comes barging in?) and forcing herself to keep it unlatched because maybe – _just maybe,_ Joohyun would come in.

 

Click. Click. Click – _forty-three,_

 

When she’s finally slithering away from the door, Wendy spots a plate filled with bacon and eggs, a tiny white sticky-note placed right beside it.

 

_“I know my cooking will never be as great as yours, but hopefully it’s not as bad as Sooyoung’s. I think I’m getting better though. Nothing burned at least? Have a great day!_

_PS: I’ll lend you some of my purple pillows and blanket so you can keep warm and sleep better. They’re clean, I promise. Good morning, Wan.”_

_—Hyun_

 

Wendy’s still not used to seeing purple ink as a replacement for Joohyun’s voice.

 

When she takes a bite, Wendy chokes out a laugh, squeezing her eyes shut and chewing out a taste that’s only tightening a chain still wrapped around her chest, pretending that there aren’t tears trickling past her eyelids – it’s way too early in the morning for that.

 

Joohyun’s cooking has gotten saltier.

 

-

 

Irene is watching the last batch of lab students file through the door before clicking answer to her phone (that’s been vibrating for the past ten minutes already).

 

She checks each fume hood to make sure there’s nothing left behind, giving her usual greeting over the receiver.

 

“Hello?”

 

_“Joohyun unnie? Come over, I'm taking a bubble bath and I need someone to talk to other than my ugly tiled walls.”_

 

Irene twists the cap of each chemical bottle, tightening loose latches before ripping off blue nitrile gloves into the proper bin.

 

“I didn't know you considered your walls as a 'someone'.”

_“Would you rather I call you a 'something' instead?”_

 

Irene scoffs, amusement lining the tips of her lips. She writes the instructions for the next lab on a whiteboard at the center of the room, loving the simple responsibility of overseeing experiments as a TA.

 

“Wouldn't that be 'something'.”

 

 _“...How very 'punny'. My stomach hurts from all this laughter. Can you hear it over my tears of joy? Ha. Ha. Ha.”_ Sooyoung deadpans before Irene hears something splash against the receiver. _“Now hurry up or I'll get wrinkly and you know I don't like wrinkles.”_

 

Before Irene gets to retort – call her a giant prune, Sooyoung has already hung up, leaving Irene to click her tongue before shoving her phone into her pocket at a student coming in.

 

“Unnie, um, I don’t get this question…”

 

Irene curls a loose strand from her ear, brain immediately switching gears to the task at hand.

 

-

 

“Tell me something I don’t know, Joohyun unnie. I’m bored.”

 

It’s the first thing Sooyoung says when she opens the bathroom door (it was nice that she was given a spare key to Sooyoung’s apartment; the giant was lazy most of the time).

 

Irene ponders a bit as she shuffles through, catching Sooyoung play with the bubbles in her tub. She wonders why the taller girl’s usual teasing lips have formed a frown instead.

 

“I kissed Seungwan.”

 

Plop.

 

Sooyoung just dropped a rubber ducky into her tub.

 

“I’m certainly not bored _now,_ ” Irene rolls her eyes at Sooyoung’s twinkling grin, the taller girl calling her over with enthusiastic waves of her hands. “Come on, spill it. Spill _everything._ ”

 

Irene chuckles as she sits down on the floor next to the tub, Sooyoung leaning eagerly over the edge, trickles of water cascading over wet skin.

 

“And then I found out she was dating Seulgi.”

 

She sees the lack of surprise in Sooyoung’s eyes, only made more evident by the swooshing motion of her hand, bubbles floating in the air, her expression nonchalant.

 

“They didn’t tell you?”

 

Irene’s pursing her lips, bringing her knees to her chest.

 

“…No.”

 

“Some friends.”

 

Sooyoung’s tongue is scathing, and even if it wasn’t directed at her, it’s still puncturing enough to have Irene choke on the hostility.

 

Irene attempts to hush her (especially when she still remembers how Seulgi had cried in her arms; she should’ve told the younger girl _after_ her shift).

 

“It’s okay. No one has to announce their relationship to anyone,” Sooyoung is rolling her eyes, leaning back to flick water against her tiled walls. “It’s my fault for not noticing it sooner.”

 

“Yeah, it is. I thought you were observant, unnie.” Sooyoung scowls, flicking another finger against a cluster of bubbles. “But it’s inconsiderate when you’re friends with _both_ of them – that’s _twice_ the number of opportunities to tell you.”

 

Irene lets Sooyoung release whatever bouts of frustration she has left, curious at the way Sooyoung’s reacting like a ticking time bomb; she’s normally not this easily riled up.

 

She watches Sooyoung breathe in, let out a long breath of air before twisting back towards her, teeth no longer biting down.

 

“It's not like it wasn't obvious, though.”

 

“What?”

 

“You liking Wendy unnie,”

 

Irene keeps her mouth shut, eyes following the way Sooyoung twirls a wet strand of black hair with a finger.

 

“Why do you think I kept teasing you about making out in the car with her and all that?”

 

She frowns, leaning back as Sooyoung teeters forward with a grin drawing against her lips.

 

“I thought you do that just for fun.”

 

“...That too, but it's also because yeah, I knew.”

 

Irene turns her gaze away to the tiny droplet of water crawling down the edge of the tub, sinking into the space between square tiles.

 

“...Does Yerim know?”

 

Sooyoung’s shrugging, tapping a finger against her chin.

 

“Who knows. It's not like I talk to her about you.”

 

Irene’s eyes swivel back up to meet Sooyoung’s scrutiny, the taller girl humming a tune to a song she doesn’t recognize.

 

“Then let me rephrase that. Does she talk to you about me?”

 

Sooyoung is grinning.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

 

“Do you know why she left me?”

 

Sooyoung begins to stretch her arms out, the water splashing to cause riptides in a tub still filled with enough bubbles to keep Sooyoung modestly covered.

 

“Nope. And I'm glad I don't. That means you two will have to talk it out and I don't have to play as a messenger girl.”

 

Irene hums, nodding along as Sooyoung sighs once more, dipping deeper until her mouth is hidden under water. She spots the rubber ducky floating near Sooyoung’s ear.

 

“We wouldn't use you that way, you know.”

 

Irene blinks blearily at Sooyoung's soapy finger pressing playfully between her brows, feeling Sooyoung's breath tickle her nose.

 

“I know, unnie.”

 

She swipes at the wet patch of water and soap on her skin, scowling at Sooyoung's hearty laughter as the taller girl cradles more bubbles into her hands. Irene can't help but be amused at the way she blows at them, watching soap fly off from pale fingers.

 

They sit in silence together for a little longer, accustomed to the comfortable quiet they tend to share. Irene merely watches the way Sooyoung squeezes handfuls of soapy water between careful palms, forming little waves along the bathtub, before cradling another puddle to repeat.

 

Irene's used to Sooyoung's muted lips.

 

Contrary to what she initially thought when she had first met the taller woman (who looked like she could speak machine gun – she owes her knowledge of weaponry to Yerim), Sooyoung’s not much of a talker.

 

“I still can't believe you told me to come over before just to pick up a T-shirt I left behind when I slept over that one time.”

 

To think she made a trip to Sooyoung’s place with a teddy bear just for a piece of clothing – only Sooyoung could make it sound like a necessity.

 

Sooyoung’s laughter ripples along the water, the rubber duck floating off to bump the edge of the tub.

 

“So? It's not like I'm going to wear any of the rags you call 'clothes'.” Sooyoung pauses for a bit. “Then again, I _did_ since you left an oversized shirt and as much as I had fun wearing yours out as a 'boyfriend shirt',” Irene rolls her eyes at Sooyoung's suggestive wink, “The color began to fade and I'm a nice person so I wasn't going to throw it away either.”

 

Irene shakes her head, unsurprised of Sooyoung's crass tongue; it was an appeal no one else had, lacking a filter that Irene's used to hearing from everyone else. Even from Seungwan.

 

She takes the rubber duck to play with, letting it switch directions so it’s swimming towards Sooyoung’s feet instead.

 

“I met Seulgi unnie yesterday.”

 

Irene hums, her only acknowledgement to show that she's heard. She'd rather have Sooyoung take reign of the conversation, shifting closer to the tub so it'd help her hear better.

 

Sooyoung circles a finger along the surface of the water, bubbles breaking away at her touch.

 

“I almost convinced myself it was a date even when all she could talk about was someone else.”

 

Irene watches Sooyoung blow at a handful of bubbles. She's slightly surprised Sooyoung didn't slap the water instead.

 

“I'm not delusional. I don't pine over someone I can't have. I don't waste time and energy keeping tabs on a silly crush that will go away eventually. I don't give the time of day to even bother thinking about them. So why am I doing all the things I don't with Seulgi?”

 

Irene knows that Sooyoung knows – it's a rhetorical question as bright as the taller girl’s favorite hue of deep lipstick.

 

But with the way Sooyoung keeps silent under a looming quiet with her question hanging over sagging shoulders, Irene mumbles the answer for her.

 

“Because to you, she's someone worth all that effort.”

 

Sooyoung's laugh sounds jagged, like the edges are broken and she's just trying to pretend it doesn't hurt.

 

“I'm tired, unnie.”

 

Irene doesn't hesitate to reach her arm over, long sleeve be damned, and curls it over Sooyoung's shoulders. It's a relief when Sooyoung nestles her head, wet hair and all, in the space between her jaw and collarbone.

 

She’s all too aware that she’s been lending her shoulder for people to cry on; but it’s something Irene knows she does best.

 

“You're always so quiet unnie. But I like it. You're such a vacuum, gobbling it all up. Not to mention a rock for dealing with all of my complaints. How do you do it?”

 

Irene feels herself grin, rubbing her cheek against Sooyoung's scalp, teasing, but nevertheless true.

 

“Because to me, you're someone worth all that effort.”

 

Irene lets Sooyoung slap her and splash her with bubbles and water (even with the rubber ducky), knowing that hearing Sooyoung laugh like her wings weren't just about to chip off at her own self-deprecation is worth every sticky clamp of drenched clothes on her skin.

 

Joy has always been a tactician who kept her cards close to her chest.

 

“I'd like to think you have an emotional range of a plastic bag,” Irene begins, pausing to let Sooyoung's lips twist in scorn. “But you do feel things and as much as you want to hide it, you can't.”

 

“Unnie—”

 

“So let me feel them with you because I know how it's like to hurt alone, okay?”

 

For the first time, Irene watches Sooyoung break down.

 

It's messy and snotty and so unlike her; how poise cracks her glass-shell to spill insecurities she's bottled up for no one else to see. Sooyoung's stumbling on broken syllables and Irene doesn't hesitate to catch her when she has finally chosen to let someone in.

 

With a bunch of garbled excuses for words like “Stupid unnie,” and “Stupid feelings,” and “I was doing so well in holding them in until you asked,” along with wet spots drenching her shoulder, Irene holds her tighter. She doesn't mind that Sooyoung is drenched in bubbles and water and staining her clothes; Irene's never been picky with her attire.

 

“L-Look at what you did, unnie. Now I'm a waterfall. If you wanted me to make you wet _so badly_ you could've just let me come up with better ways than this...”

 

Irene laughs at Sooyoung's choked attempt at humor. She’s never been one to show how soft she is.

 

Sooyoung's come unhinged and Irene makes sure she's there for her.

 

She waits until Sooyoung’s no longer quaking against her, patting her back, before urging her to stand.

 

“Now come on. You're going to get wrinkly if you haven't already.”

 

Irene barely gets up before Sooyoung’s hand encircles her wrist.

 

When Sooyoung yanks her into the tub instead, water drenching all over her clothes (oh god even her _hair_ is wet), Irene is too busy hitting the taller girl to care that Sooyoung is teasing her about having landed on her naked body.

 

Irene makes sure to take advantage of that, pinching repeatedly against wet skin of Sooyoung’s sides.

 

“Unnie – _eek!_ Y-You’re, hahaha – s-such a _pervert!_ ”

 

Irene doesn’t care much for the jab (they’re both women; there’s nothing she hasn’t already seen), letting her fingers tickle soft skin.

 

Sooyoung has always sounded better when she was laughing, anyway.

 

-

 

Wendy sighs as soon as she enters the music shop, vaguely hearing the sound of the door's bell chime as she slinks her bag behind the cash register.

 

She gives her routine greetings to her coworkers, moving deeper into the back to hang her coat in the stockroom.

 

Wendy glances at her wrist to check the time, a frown lining her lips at the memory of stashing her watch in a drawer in her room.

 

Right. So she can't count Seulgi away anymore.

_(“What happened to lesson 1?”)_

 

Her finger is already tapping away on her bare wrist, the lack of sound keeping her from easing the ache in her head.

 

Wendy's twisting away from the stockroom's door to look for something – _anything,_ to get her mind off of pictures she doesn't recognize, to drown out the sounds she's never heard before except in her head.

 

_(“Why look down on yourself when you could look up?”)_

 

She staggers towards a pile of boxes, looking for leverage from wobbling legs that suddenly can’t hold her up.

 

Wendy knows she should get through this; it’s for Seulgi, after all. She should be able to handle whatever comes her way; that a pulsing pain in her head should be nothing compared to what Seulgi has been through _– alone._

 

But knowing all of that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

_(“When I get hurt, I smoke to forget.”)_

 

Wendy stumbles for her coat on the rack, desperate for the lighter in its pocket. She yanks it out as soon as cold metal flutters against her skin, relieved at the flipping ‘clink’ of its cap.

 

Clink. Clink. Clink – _three,_

 

_(“But with you, I've forgotten what it's like to get hurt.”)_

 

Wendy’s still not used to the sound—

 

Clink. Clink. Clink _– six,_

 

—but it’ll have to do.

 

When she gets to her signature number forty-three, Wendy is relieved her head doesn’t hurt anymore. Foggy pictures of Seulgi and herself have gone away; two look-alikes that Wendy can’t recognize except for their voices and faces.

 

But she’s trying. It’ll just take time before it stops hurting.

 

_Maybe._

 

She gets up on weak knees, making sure Joohyun's lighter is safe in her jean pocket (in case she needs it again) and steps out of the stockroom, thankful that no one had seen her.

 

Wendy barely makes it through the aisle of pianos before her feet stops at the sound of someone singing.

 

_“Don’t push me away and leave – I only have you,”_

 

Wendy recognizes that voice, sifting through the clusters of guitars to find Seulgi harmonizing with Taeyeon. They’re singing a song that Wendy’s been using for her students to practice to; she didn’t know Seulgi would know the lyrics to it.

 

_“Don’t go, if you love me – don’t leave me,”_

 

She’s tempted to sing along, but she takes this as an opportunity to listen to Taeyeon’s improvement (her tone has sharpened to gold). She has always been the top student – Taeyeon didn’t really need the lessons anymore.

 

_“Forever be by my side, even tomorrow.”_

 

Wendy watches the two share a smile like it was a secret, Seulgi’s eyes disappearing into crescents that it’s just as bright as the last time she’s seen it.

 

She claps her hands so they’re aware of her presence, a proud smile worming its way onto her lips at Taeyeon’s cheeky grin before the little girl is running towards her.

 

Wendy laughs as she picks her up, holding her close, giggling at the tiny hands squishing her cheeks and coos at Taeyeon’s instinctive greeting kiss.

 

“Good afternoon to you too, Tae-Tae.”

 

She never dares skip a day of work; especially not when Taeyeon’s always been that constant presence. Taeyeon had been the only familiar thing she knew at a time where nothing else was.

 

Wendy hadn’t known Taeyeon’s name of course; her family had to tell her – all jotted notes in a journal filled with descriptions she’s been to and the people she’s met but couldn’t place. All she could remember were pathways that only her feet recalled, but even when she had told Taeyeon the first time they met:

 

_“I’m sorry I can’t remember – can we start again?”_

 

Taeyeon never saw her any differently – not like how her family did (still does), and Seulgi.

 

They would never say it out loud but Wendy could tell; it was all she could see in the way they’d watch her, even when their lips mouthed words that told her the opposite, had reassured Wendy for every doubt that spilled her throat.

 

They were waiting for someone else and it wasn’t _her._

 

She’s not a looking glass.

 

“Hey, Wen.”

 

She hasn't seen the taller girl in a while, not since she had kissed Joohyun (because that was all she could think about; how to close the gap that was only growing wider). Guilt coils at the pit of her stomach, uncomfortable and thick – a probing reminder.

 

Wendy’s voice comes out as small as she feels.

 

“…Hi, Seul.”

 

She watches the taller woman pinch Taeyeon’s cheek, the little girl slapping long fingers away as Seulgi sidles up next to her, a hand curling around her waist; Wendy reminds herself that she’s allowed to touch her this close – they’re girlfriends, after all.

 

“Tae-Tae here has been giving me some vocal training – she even taught me a new song. Isn't that right, Tae?”

 

“Yup!”

 

Wendy’s heart fills up with affection at Taeyeon’s giggles, Seulgi’s hand ruffling the little girl’s blonde hair before the door chimes and Taeyeon’s hopping out of her arms to run into her parents’.

 

She doesn’t forget to remind Taeyeon about guitar lessons the next day, and when the child nods an ‘OK’, passing an additional wave to Seulgi, “Bye Beargi!” Wendy realizes she’s letting Seulgi touch her even when the door closes and the store goes quiet.

 

Wendy unhooks the arm looped around her, guilt only festering to nestle up her throat; Seulgi needs to know.

 

“What are you doing here, Seul? Are you not working today?”

 

She pretends she’s busying herself with the stack of vinyl records by the door, watching her coworker bid himself goodbye as Seulgi’s steps mirror her own.

 

“I took a morning shift – I'm off now.”

 

“Oh, okay.”

 

Wendy’s not used to the silence; it’s too similar to the one back at the apartment, where all Joohyun ever leaves is a note on a table and a plate filled with salt (speaking of which, she’s going to have to reprimand the woman; food shouldn’t be that salty).

 

She circles over to the cash register, fiddling with the machine in hopes that the noises play louder than the quiet over their heads.

 

“Joohyun unnie came to see me today.”

 

Wendy almost drops a stack of coins if not for Seulgi’s palm cradling her hand. She thanks her with a timid bow and a whispered “Thanks,” hoping that Seulgi can’t feel how her fingers shake.

 

But of course she does because Seulgi’s wrapping her hands around it and pressing a kiss to Wendy’s skin.

 

Wendy knows what that means; Joohyun has never been one to lie (not like her).

 

_(“I'll apologize to her when I have the chance. You should, too.”)_

 

Wendy keeps mum, turning away because she can't bear to look at Seulgi – Joohyun was right. Seulgi deserves better.

 

“…I'm sorry,”

 

It comes out like a wisp of air, so silent except for the tremor in her throat of syllables that Seulgi needs to hear.

 

Seulgi’s kissing the back of her hand again, pressing words into her skin, etching heat so comfortingly warm that Wendy hates how it’s not burning her instead; she deserves it.

 

“She said she was sorry for liking you,” Wendy holds her breath, hiding behind curtains of hair because Seulgi shouldn’t be so gentle with her. “Are you sorry for liking her too?”

 

Wendy doesn't know what to say. What can she say when they both knew it was true?

 

It’s a feeling she has for Joohyun that is completely and utterly her own – a feeling not described in a notebook her family had written contents into of what she was supposed to know.

 

Joohyun are the pages Wendy has written all on her own.

 

She’s mumbling under her breath, wary of the calm expression on Seulgi’s face.

 

She’s sorry for a lot of things.

 

“I-I’m sorry I’m not loving you the way I’m supposed to,” Wendy watches Seulgi’s lips twitch to smile. “…I’m sorry for kissing you and wishing you were Joohyun.” Wendy bites her lip, not willing to let tears slip past her eyelids. “I’m sorry for not being that beautiful girl you remember me to be.”

 

Seulgi is kissing her cheeks and it’s more than enough to let her tears fall – it’s suffocating how choked she feels for the guilt eating away at her chest, but it’s better than Seulgi’s misdirected mercy.

 

“I told you already didn’t I? If it helps to think about her, then that’s okay.”

 

Wendy’s broken sob crashes past gritted teeth.

 

“But Seulgi, that’s not—” _Okay,_

 

“I know it’s not, Wendy.” Seulgi is rubbing circles along her skin, a free hand brushing away the fringe from Wendy’s eyes. “It’s just – I've loved you for so long, that I don't know how to let you go.” Wendy grimaces under Seulgi’s feather touch. “You taught me how to love myself – and then you left me. How could you leave me and never teach me how to let go?”

 

Wendy’s spouting hasty syllables that spill in discord, much like the chaos she feels in her head.

 

“I-I don’t know, Seul! I can’t – I can’t remember! I’m – I’m _trying…_ ”

 

“I know,” Seulgi is wiping at her cheeks again, a fond smile curling along the taller girl’s lips. “The Wendy I knew was always so mean anyway, so don’t beat yourself up over it. One day maybe, I’ll be able to ask her something.”

 

Wendy sniffles, swiping the streaks with the corner of her sleeve; Seulgi has always been the stronger one; it’s no surprise how hope still lines the words from her mouth.

 

“W-What would you ask her?”

 

Seulgi is giving her this quiet smile, a smile Wendy has seen so often in the noises she’s still learning how to listen to.

 

“How could you leave me with just lesson 1?”

 

For that brief moment, Wendy feels like things aren’t so opaque anymore, like the dots have connected on a map she’s never been able to read. Maybe it’s in the way Seulgi had said it, how her tongue curls each syllable, that causes some sort of switch to flick on in her head.

 

Whatever it is, it’s turning the gears in her lips so the answer comes easily, almost like she understood what Seulgi meant.

 

Her hand is reaching for Seulgi’s face, cupping her cheek, running a thumb along the contours of her jaw like she’s seeing her for the first time. Wendy watches surprise drape over Seulgi’s eyes, how her mouth starts to hang open like she recognizes the way she’s touching her skin.

 

When Wendy speaks, her voice is still hers, yet isn’t.

 

“Because that’s all you need, Seul.”

 

And then it was gone. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
>  
> 
> The song that Seulgi and Taeyeon sang together was “Don’t Push/Don’t Push Me” for Uncontrollably Fond OST as suggested by @SeulDy94 over on twitter (I admit the lyrics are eerily fitting for Seuldy/Wenseul here and it’s even better that they sang it together in RL). Also, happy birthday dongsaeng (@haileytotoro)! I’ve greeted you before but here it is again, as promised.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I’m humbled by your responses for last chapter (and every chapter before and after). Thank you for all the upvotes/kudos and comments; I see and cherish every single one. I’ve tried to be as detailed as possible to my replies below. I will continue to work hard to be worthy of your patience.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update – until next time.


	12. Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seulgi never thought she'd find a mirror in Joohyun.

Seulgi never thought she'd find a mirror in Joohyun.

 

Seulgi had always paid attention to the way Wendy looked at Joohyun, but never the other way around.

 

Maybe it was because she didn’t like how Joohyun reminded her of herself.

 

Wendy was undoubtedly enamored with the older woman, and truth be told, Seulgi wasn’t surprised – Joohyun had this charm that called for passing eyes. But when she considered it, gave just a little bit more of her time to think, Joohyun was just as enamored with Wendy, too.

 

She was just quieter, more soft-spoken and subtle about it, than Wendy.

 

Throughout their coffee-talks, it didn’t take long for Seulgi to pick up on the silent cues Joohyun would leave whenever they spoke about Wendy.

 

It would be in the way her lips tugged at the corners, twitching to smile, or when her eyes sprinkled of affection, dusted with light akin to sparklers of fireworks; bright and glowing, her words laced with that fondness Seulgi wasn’t deaf to hearing.

 

Joohyun always sounded so much like herself that it sometimes hurt to listen to her.

 

It was particularly strong when Joohyun had invited her for a sleepover at their shared apartment to celebrate Wendy’s birthday.

 

_(“Why don’t you come over? Have a sleepover with Seungwan?”_

_“…Wait, really? I can?”_

_“I don’t see why not. Besides, it’ll be my birthday present for you too, since you never told me yours was on the same month. It’ll be fun.”)_

 

It was sweet of Joohyun; a sentiment the older woman had no need to do for her at all.

 

It only made Joohyun that much more difficult to dislike.

 

Seulgi had been aware that Wendy was keeping their relationship a secret; it was obvious when Joohyun still looked at Wendy with eyes that spoke of poetry, familiar syllables to words Seulgi knew all too well already written so blatantly on similar pools of brown.

 

Seulgi would have to look away to remind herself that she wasn’t the one pining over Wendy anymore – that she was already with her.

 

But it was hard when Joohyun played as her mirror.

 

It was fun picking out birthday cards – there were so many phrases they giggled over, pondered over which would make Wendy laugh more, that Seulgi almost bought the whole row of cards if not for Joohyun’s firm hold on her wrist.

 

“She’ll love whichever one because it’ll be from you, okay?”

 

“Do you think so?”

 

Seulgi had trouble juggling between a card with a guitar and the other with a white bear; she wasn’t sure which Wendy would love more – she didn’t want to screw up.

 

Joohyun had chuckled then, placing the two cards into Seulgi’s palms, patting her hands gently.

 

“Yes. Besides, who says you can’t get her two birthday cards?”

 

An idea had struck Seulgi then.

 

Passing Joohyun the card with the guitar, she slipped it into the older woman’s hand and grinned at Joohyun’s crinkled brows and confused frown.

 

“One from me, and one from you.” Seulgi slapped her back then, giggling at Joohyun’s startled cough. “Two perfect cards from two people who care about her the most, right?”

 

It was blaringly obvious how Joohyun had flared up, her cheeks dotted in pink, her quick spin to stalk off towards another aisle an excuse to hide her embarrassment, muttering beneath her breath ‘Let’s go get cake’ before she disappeared around a shelf of magazines.

 

Seulgi had laughed then, running to catch up, only to spot Joohyun plucking her phone out, taking note of the word on her screen.

 

‘Home’.

 

Before she got to ask, Joohyun had already clicked answer.

 

“Seungwan? What’s up?”

 

Seulgi hadn’t known what to think then, as she listened to the way fond affection colored Joohyun’s voice, her syllables brighter than the lights on the ceiling.

 

When the call ended, Seulgi couldn’t help but ask.

 

“’Home’?”

 

She remembers how Joohyun had pink dust her cheeks again, the rosy hue a stark contrast to her pale skin.

 

Joohyun had muttered under her breath, rubbing her neck.

 

“Um, well, Seungwan’s the one I come home to, so…”

 

Seulgi hadn’t thought much of it then; she had slotted the image away into the furthest corner of her memory because it was true; they lived together, after all.

 

That was no secret.

 

She just didn’t think it would be deeper than that.

 

“Happy birthday, Wen-Wen!”

 

Seulgi had carried the box of cake into the apartment that special evening after having gone out with Joohyun for cards.

 

“Oh wow! Thank you!”

 

Seulgi remembers watching Wendy shuffle towards them at the door, with Joohyun locking it up behind them, their snow-covered boots thudding onto the mat.

 

Joohyun had offered to take her backpack while Wendy had tugged to carry the cake, Seulgi feeling overwhelmed at their instinctive and synchronized hospitality (though they always seemed to move as clockwork together), having watched with awe at their automatic steps.

 

“You already prepared the beds?”

 

Seulgi couldn’t help but let her jaw drop at the makeshift fortress of pillows and blankets and two mattresses slid together to make one large bed. The couch was pushed back to make space in the living room, their sleeping arrangements already set.

 

“Yup! We’re all sleeping together!”

 

Wendy was practically bouncing from where she stood, her expression filled with glee, her excitement spilling through the tiny hops in her feet and the grin her lips had sported; a shining competition to the arching lamp of the kitchen.

 

She looked like a child on Christmas Eve, gushing about the presents she could open the next morning, how Wendy had giggled at the prospect of a sleepover with the three of them as she cut the cake, looking adorable in her blue apron.

 

Seulgi remembers how happiness painted Wendy’s face to glow even when her focus fell on the slices of chocolate and colored sprinkles, how strands of auburn had curled over her forehead, hiding specks of her cute brows.

 

She also remembers how Joohyun had watched Wendy from the side of the room, having settled her backpack for her on the couch, the older woman’s eyes covered in mute longing – that look Seulgi had seen too often in the mirror of her own home.

 

But Seulgi had ignored it – blamed it on the lighting; that maybe she was just seeing things; that it was her mere imagination.

 

“Oh, you even have the bear out!”

 

Seulgi had been surprised to see the stuffed animal, remembering how Taeyeon had gifted the toy to Wendy, the blue dress now a lighter shade compared to its earlier days.

 

Curious feet padded against the floor, settling beside the bear and cradling it in her arms, flitting fingers across the seams of blue. The white that colored the animal carried flecks of yellow, obvious signs of time ticking for it too, the soft fluff a familiar touch beneath her hands.

 

It was a while since she had last seen it.

 

For some reason, Wendy never really mentioned it; Seulgi wouldn't have been surprised if the shorter girl had forgotten where it came from, but to think that Wendy hadn't bothered to ask her about it – it was a bit disheartening.

 

She was glad the bear was out now though; maybe Wendy had recalled a memory about it?

 

Flitting fingers across blue, letting nostalgia run under her skin, tickle it warm, Seulgi couldn't help but let the trickle of memory lane color her mind's eye.

 

Until her palms met with crooked knots.

 

Seulgi had felt confusion mar its way through her head, the newly stitched seams on the blue dress etching in to replace the old image of crisp material.

 

It was a decent patch-work, rookie fingers having cured ripped strings to make the attire look relatively new again – or at least, not as torn, spotting awkward knots here and there.

 

“I’m…not very good at sewing,” Seulgi was startled to hear Joohyun’s voice, looking up at timid syllables spilling past her lips. “But I managed to make it work somehow.”

 

Joohyun looked sheepish, scratching at her cheek, her eyes darting anywhere else but at the bear.

 

Seulgi stared at the stuffed toy once again, looked at beady eyes and its signature white fur with its memorable blue dress.

 

And to think the bear now had a link to Joohyun, too.

 

It was supposed to be a keepsake comprised of just them three: Taeyeon, Wendy, and herself.

 

Seulgi had felt green jealousy bubble at the pit of her stomach then, the thought of what was once a special memory for them was now shared with someone outside too.

 

It was like Joohyun was taking everything that used to be hers; Seulgi felt like she was being replaced, even.

 

First it was Wendy’s heart, and now a precious memento, too.

 

It terrified her.

 

But Seulgi had dismissed it all as insecurity. It had to be mere anxiety because why would she be so insecure when _she_ was the one dating Wendy?

 

“You did great, unnie.” Seulgi’s lips had moved on autopilot, a template response already breaking through between her teeth. “A little rough around the corners, but I think it adds a certain charm to it.”

 

Joohyun had sounded relieved.

 

“Oh really? That’s good, I was worried it looked terrible.” She had raised her left hand then, wiggling her fingers. “I kept poking myself with the needle, so I’m glad it worked out in the end. Band-aids are a little annoying to wear.”

 

Joohyun had laughed lightly, sounding fond of the memory.

 

To think Joohyun bothered to sew the dress despite not being particularly adept; Seulgi should’ve figured it out then – of just how much Wendy meant to the older woman.

 

But Seulgi had dismissed that red cue, too. After all, there was nothing to worry about when she already had Wendy.

 

“Come on you two, let’s go eat. I made lots for us tonight. You both better finish your plates, okay?”

 

Wendy had stepped into the living room, patting the stuffed bear gently on its head, her confidence so akin to the Wendy Seulgi still remembers all too well.

 

Placing the bear back on the couch, caressing fingers along the new seams of its blue dress, Seulgi pretended it didn’t hurt to be sharing the stuffed animal with Joohyun, too.

 

She knew it was petty – it was just a toy, after all.

 

No big deal.

 

…It was no big deal.

 

Seulgi mustered up the biggest smile she could despite the scathing fire of pain in her chest, letting her eyes curl into crescent moons to hide away the tears that burned behind them.

 

“Great, I’m starving!”

 

She settled into a seat next to Joohyun at the table and watched the way Wendy poured food into their plates like she had always done for her when she had been _her_ Wendy.

 

Seulgi had latched onto that picture; found an anchor to hold herself together so she could pretend she wasn’t hurt being there.

 

-

 

When they were all dressed for bed, Joohyun had approached Wendy at the sink.

 

Seulgi had managed to hear the words from the couch, the blue dressed teddy bear comfortably sitting on her lap.

 

She hadn’t planned on eavesdropping, but her feet wouldn’t let her move, like they were molded into the floor.

 

Her ears had picked up the older woman’s soft voice.

 

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

 

Joohyun had looked nervous, her hands stuffed into her grey hoodie.

 

Seulgi watched Wendy nod her head, curiosity painting her lips, her eyes darting worriedly like a timid Joohyun was a rarity.

 

Seulgi wished she could cover her ears to not hear the affection on Wendy’s tongue.

 

“Of course! Is something wrong, Hyun?”

 

She had watched Joohyun pluck a small metal box out of her pocket, flicking the lid open, hearing it go ‘clink’, before shutting it to a close again.

 

It looked like a lighter.

 

“I…” Hesitation played along Joohyun’s lips like an orchestra, how her words seemed to pause just behind her mouth. “…I – um, c-can we talk in my room? It’s, well, a little embarrassing.”

 

Seulgi had shot them a smile when their eyes glanced at her, tilting her head to the side to emphasize her appearance of ignorance – have them under the illusion that she hadn’t heard them at all.

 

She just happened to have sharper hearing when it had something to do with Wendy.

 

“We’ll be right back okay, Seul?”

 

Seulgi had merely nodded, catching Joohyun’s apologetic smile, not trusting her own mouth to speak when her throat was drowning in slick liquid of gooey envy green, choking her to a silence.

 

When the two disappeared behind a closing door, Seulgi got up to retrieve the card and a little present she had gotten for the birthday girl, digging through her backpack and making sure nothing was crinkled or out of place.

 

Joohyun had already given her birthday card with the guitar, a simple “Happy Birthday” written on it, though Seulgi had a feeling that Joohyun was giving the rest of her present for Wendy in the privacy of her room.

 

She wondered if that lighter she held had anything to do with it.

 

And since when did Joohyun smoke?

 

She had never caught the woman puff a cigarette at all – there wasn’t any hint of smoke on her clothes or breath either, whenever they had coffee together.

 

Seulgi stared at the little present she had prepared for Wendy – a simple guitar pick with a white bear on it, knowing that a constant presence next to Wendy would forever be her guitar.

 

“Sorry, did we take too long?”

 

Seulgi had jumped at Wendy’s voice hovering just behind her, hiding the card and present as best as she could, spotting Joohyun’s knowing smile and Wendy’s curious eyes falling to where her hands were shoved into the crevices of her backpack.

 

“N-No, not at all!”

 

Seulgi swallowed at Wendy’s looming presence, how the shorter woman had crawled along the bed to where she sat, right at the corner near the couch.

 

Wendy had happiness for a face.

 

Seulgi wondered what Joohyun had done to paint such a beauty of a picture in a span of a few minutes.

 

“What are you hiding, Seul?”

 

Seulgi had darted her gaze away at Wendy’s gleaming smile, nervous at her girlfriend’s fingers roaming over her pajama covered thigh. She was clearly trying to peek past her, no doubt eager to see what were in her hands.

 

Seulgi had caught Joohyun’s mute nod before the older woman shuffled away, clearly giving her the privacy she needed to properly greet the birthday girl.

 

When Joohyun disappeared into her room again, Seulgi plucked the items out, feeling relieved that Joohyun wouldn’t be watching the embarrassing exchange (she could suddenly relate to the older woman’s nervous call a few moments ago).

 

“I – um, I got you this,”

 

Wendy had grasped at the small black box and card, her eyes shimmering with delight, how they zig-zagged at the lines she had written with blue ink.

 

Seulgi scratched at her cheek.

 

“I…I ramble a lot, as you can see…”

 

She had spoken about the dates they had together, the sleepovers they now shared, and the reassurance that she would still love her even if all Wendy could think about was Joohyun.

 

As much as it pained her to know, Seulgi thought it was okay, because maybe one day, Wendy would grow to love her the way she used to again.

 

Seulgi thought she could wait.

 

“Thank you, Seul. I love it.”

 

When Wendy had hugged her, Seulgi made sure not to forget to kiss her too.

 

She had cradled her chin, the feel of smooth skin beneath her fingers a familiar touch before Seulgi had taken her lips. She had tasted of the sweet chocolate cake, soft and feather light, and she didn’t want to pull away.

 

But Wendy did, pushing gently against her shoulders, smiling that little smile before standing just as Joohyun’s door clicked open, her laptop in hand.

 

At that moment, Seulgi didn’t want to be a secret anymore.

 

“Do you have another report to do?”

 

Seulgi had watched the brief exchange, allowed her heart to beat to a slower pace, as Wendy neared Joohyun, the oldest woman settling into a chair at the table.

 

Joohyun had shaken her head.

 

“No, I’m just checking my schedule for the next week.”

 

Wendy had merely hummed before trailing towards her own room, no doubt tucking the present and card away.

 

Seulgi shifted to move her backpack onto the couch and settled it next to the stuffed animal, all the while having watched Joohyun type away on her laptop.

 

“Which side do you prefer sleeping on, unnie?” Seulgi had asked, gesturing to the makeshift large bed she was currently sitting on when Joohyun looked her way. “Wen-Wen will probably be in the middle.”

 

Joohyun had looked bashful then, coughing into a hand.

 

“Um, I wasn’t really planning to…”

 

Seulgi frowned.

 

“Then where will you sleep?”

 

“The couch?”

 

“No, Joohyun.” Wendy had authority to her voice, a pout on lush lips as she strode back into the living room. “You’re sleeping on the bed, okay? We all are.”

 

Seulgi had understood Joohyun’s discomfort.

 

After all, they were both close with Wendy, though not to each other (at least, not enough to have a sleepover so intimate as sharing the same bed).

 

But Wendy was firm and despite Joohyun’s disgruntled whine, her girlfriend had dragged her by the wrist towards the bed, Seulgi remembering to move aside and make room for the two of them.

 

“But the lights…”

 

Joohyun had obviously been looking for an excuse to prolong the inevitable, but Wendy wouldn’t take any of it, her mischievous smile so bright even in the dim amber glow of their kitchen lamp.

 

“It’s fine. Seul doesn’t like the dark anyway.”

 

Seulgi had instantly grinned, having felt glee color her cheeks warm and pink, affection having risen up in her chest at the fact that Wendy remembered. It was something.

 

Even if it was because she reminded Wendy the first time they started having sleepovers again.

 

“Oh.”

 

Seulgi had watched Wendy settle beside her, watched her girlfriend yank Joohyun down gently with her, before all three of them faced the ceiling together.

 

Wendy’s hands had been full with Seulgi’s fingers in one, with Joohyun’s in the other.

 

Seulgi should have realized sooner what that meant: that somewhere along the way, she was no longer the only one in Wendy’s heart – that there was someone else who was now her equivalent.

 

That night, Seulgi had waited until they both fell asleep to memorize the way Joohyun had naturally curled against Wendy, her arm over the shortest woman’s tummy, their hands still undeniably linked together.

 

Seulgi remembers how she had held Wendy similarly too, her fingers still very much entwined with hers.

 

But she hadn’t missed the way Wendy had drifted instinctively into Joohyun’s hold, curling into her, like she was returning her embrace.

 

Sleep had finally gotten the curtains to close over Seulgi’s eyes, but not without her thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t worth keeping Wendy if it meant hurting this much.

 

-

 

Looking at Wendy now, blinking blearily, watching _her_ Wendy disappear before her very eyes, Seulgi considers that it might just be true.

 

_(“Because that's all you need, Seul.”)_

 

She never thought she’d hear Wendy again.

 

Together, they are a mosaic of mistakes, and it's sort of beautiful.

 

Seulgi admits that she doesn’t quite like it, how the word ‘mistake’ is a nicer way of saying ‘error’, because she knows she still can't find her Wendy, but as she watches this Wendy (present-right-here-right-now Wendy) curl a smile on her lips, Seulgi thinks it’s okay.

 

She thinks it’s okay that their love turned into a mistake.

 

But maybe it’s because Seulgi wears scripted words like a suit for skin, the concept of pretend a definition that Seulgi would consider analogous to herself.

 

She’s a walking lie, after all.

 

Seulgi's even grown used to lies from her own lover's lips: the way Wendy would enunciate each syllable, make them clearer to hear, poison dripping between teeth that often marks Seulgi’s skin between the sheets through kisses at sleepovers they still have.

 

They’re both liars.

 

Wendy’s just learned to pretend along with her.

 

She'll tell Seulgi a beautiful lie “I love you,” and Seulgi will respond with the truth; “I love you too.”

 

The words were easy. So were the touches.

 

But Seulgi knew she wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the charade if this Wendy didn’t share _her_ Wendy’s face.

 

But it was getting harder to pretend that it doesn’t hurt – that it doesn’t hurt how Wendy looks at her like she wishes she was Joohyun instead.

 

Seulgi's never been much for confrontation.

 

She hates conflict as much as a child hates vegetables, but sometimes, they're necessary and Seulgi hates that.

 

Wendy's looking at her with stonewashed eyes, her gaze far off that Seulgi can't read her, unrecognizable like it's no longer the girl she knew and loved.

 

But she looks like the girl Seulgi's still in love with, the girl she still sees in dreams when she sleeps, in every guitar she hears someone play, and in every white teddy bear and blue dress she'd fix and organize in the store.

 

She sees Wendy even when she doesn't want to anymore.

 

“How could you be this mean, Wendy?”

 

Seulgi knows she's not talking to past Wendy – _her,_ Wendy.

 

She'd seen the way the shorter girl looked at her, that tiny spark of knowledge of what they used to be a glimmer of broken wings suddenly remembering how to fly.

 

Seulgi had felt time pause, maybe even rewind, when Wendy had looked at her like she remembered loving her again.

 

_(“Because that's all you need, Seul.”)_

 

Even when Wendy (her Wendy) came back just for that tiny second, Seulgi shouldn't have been surprised to be teased again – it was always Wendy's thing.

 

Seulgi latches onto Wendy's arms, legs crumbling under the weight of eyes that have hidden away _her_ Wendy again, pooling back to lost brown that has only learned to love Joohyun.

 

Wendy’s “I love you's” have become sweet poison, corroding at her lips for every kiss they share; their dance of pretend a fantasy Seulgi's been waiting for so long.

 

Seulgi's never realized how the gentleness rips her at the seams of her heart, slowly, as if it won't hurt (and it doesn't, not really) until Wendy's mentioning Joohyun in every syllable her mouth makes.

 

In the quiet of her house, in the security of her bed, beneath the blankets they’d cuddle in, Wendy would mutter things during their sleepovers like: “Do you have a purple pen?” and “This brand of fabric softener is amazing,” to “I wonder if she’s staying up late tonight.”

 

Seulgi doesn’t mind them though; they were indicators of how much Joohyun had taken up the space in Wendy’s heart.

 

But she tries not to think that maybe, just maybe, Joohyun had replaced the pieces that were hers instead of filling the remaining gaps left to fit the two of them.

 

Wendy is blinking at her.

 

But _she’s_ gone.

 

Again.

 

“…Seulgi?”

 

She wants to laugh, how the sound of her name lacks the affection she’s heard just a moment ago – how she had heard _her_ voice like she hadn’t been gone long; like she was just there, waiting for her.

 

Somewhere.

 

_(“How could you leave me with just lesson 1?”_

_“Because that's all you need, Seul.”)_

 

Something clicks in her head like a bolt had been hammered down enough times to finally crack her open.

 

Maybe it’s because she got to hear _her,_ how _she_ felt, that Seulgi feels like she could pull through with a map that had blurred lines and no x’s marking a spot.

 

Or maybe it’s because she’s looking at Wendy and realized that _she_ left her, alone.

 

Again.

 

Together, they’re a mosaic of mistakes, and Seulgi still thinks it’s beautiful – really, though it’s sort of sad, too.

 

But they don’t have to be.

 

They don’t have to be liars anymore.

 

She’s grasping Wendy’s hands, curls them in her own, stares at the way they’re small and soft, having memorized the slopes of lines on her palms and thinks: these used to touch her the same way, too.

 

But as much as they made love together, again and again, Wendy’s touches weren’t the same – they weren’t _hers._

 

She knows this Wendy put her above herself, too. But it was wrong.

 

And Seulgi knew she was wrong for saying yes.

 

_(“I want to make up for all the lost time we’ve had when I forgot how much I loved you.”)_

 

It was a nice sentiment; it even gave Seulgi a little hope – that they could go back to the way things used to be.

 

But the Wendy Seulgi knew would never want her to hurt like this; she would never allow Seulgi to pine over something so toxic – not when kind, beautiful, Wendy, puts others before herself.

 

 _Her_ Wendy wouldn't let Seulgi waddle after a ghost in the dark.

 

So why was she letting herself do something she knew Wendy would never approve of?

 

So Seulgi stops.

 

“Hey, Wendy?”

 

Wendy is blinking at her, as if to clear the fog away over her eyes, like she had a momentary lapse – like she was trying to figure out where she was, and what had happened.

 

“…Yeah?”

 

Seulgi presses a kiss to her hands, finding strength in warmth that never really changed, even when Wendy herself, did.

 

“I love you.”

 

“Seul?”

 

Seulgi laughs, wry and scathing in her throat, but the words spill a lot more easier now than she thought it would.

 

Maybe it’s because it’s time she took Wendy’s lesson to heart.

 

_(“Lesson 1: Don’t hide anything about yourself because there’s nothing to be ashamed about.”)_

 

Seulgi writes words on Wendy’s wrist, kissing them in, where Wendy’s heart thrums in beats.

 

“I know we’re wrong – that what we’re _doing,_ is wrong.”

 

She watches Wendy keep mute, confusion coloring her eyes.

 

Seulgi keeps going.

 

“And I wanted to keep being wrong, because I didn’t know how to be right. I convinced myself that I like being broken. That it’s okay to love myself a little less, for doing this, knowing it was wrong. It didn’t really matter to me as long as I could be with you.”

 

Wendy’s shifting closer, as if to hold her, feeling the way her hands reach for her face.

 

Seulgi holds them there, where she can rest her cheeks in soft palms.

 

“But I forgot that I love you more than the lies I like to listen to.”

 

“Seul?”

 

Seulgi smiles a little at the way Wendy stares up at her, caressing her skin, like she’s trying to memorize the way she’s disappearing.

 

She’s surprised she’s not crying.

 

“So thanks for trying to keep up with me. You were never much of a pretender, especially back then.” Seulgi laughs, the memory of her Wendy failing at even little white lies. “I think it’s about time we stopped healing wrong.” Seulgi taps Wendy’s nose, playful. “Right?”

 

Wendy always knew what was best for her.

 

Now it was her turn.

 

Seulgi smiles; for once, confident again, like suddenly she was the girl Wendy always told her she could be.

 

“I watched her disappear in your eyes. I'd like to think she'll come back – to surprise me for a second before leaving again. But I don't think I'll be able to handle having her for a moment just to watch her be gone again.”

 

They've been trying to make up for something in each other, replace a hole left too deep to fill: Wendy's was guilt. Seulgi knew hers was longing.

 

But that was poison and Seulgi would never allow a relationship with Wendy to ever be toxic.

 

“’I'll be okay if you're thinking of her when you tell me you love me too.‘“ Seulgi recites out loud, the words still managing to burn through her tongue. “But I don't think _she_ would like that very much.”

 

It’s painfully clear in her own ears that she isn’t referring to the Wendy blinking up at her.

 

Seulgi laughs a little.

 

“She's always going on about what's best for me, taking care of me, being that kind and selfless sort of girl who I’ll always be in love with.”

 

Seulgi tucks a strand of auburn behind Wendy’s ear, memorizing how soft flesh feels beneath her skin.

 

She still feels the same, too – but she isn’t _her._

 

Not anymore.

 

“…and now that she's not here to look after me, I think it's time I looked after myself. Like how she wanted me to all along, with lesson 1.”

 

Seulgi’s squeezing Wendy’s hands, a grip she’s giving one more time.

 

It’s spontaneous, Seulgi knows, how Wendy had a lapse in memory – a brief jog of their past flitting past her lips in that tone _she_ always had; that mischief knotted in her voice like sewn wool.

 

It was nice to have walked back in memory lane, even for a second.

 

She loosens her clutches from soft fingers to cradle Wendy’s small wrists, untangling their skins.

 

“So no more pity parties for the both of us. Let's not be each other's charity case, okay?”

 

Seulgi lets her go.

 

And she doesn’t look back.

 

-

 

Joohyun always had a noble heart, but that also meant she was a prisoner in her own palace.

 

Joy never forgets that, so she won’t take her for granted.

 

The older woman is good at lending shoulders, great at listening in, and even better at drying eyes.

 

Joy makes sure to remember that too.

 

Though Joy's never been one to show she sheds tears, maybe one or two, but certainly not when someone is looking.

 

Joohyun's dried her eyes more times than she could count – and more than the older girl was actually aware of.

 

Not that Joy would ever tell her, though.

 

They were always wedged behind her eyelids, pooling at the base just waiting to spill like an overfilled cup of feelings she's not used to carrying.

 

Joy would let them sit there until they sink back into her skin, get absorbed between the pores of her flesh so it'd leave only puffy eyes and no trace of tears that could've trailed down past her cheeks.

 

She should've known Joohyun was going to break the dam apart behind her eyelids, to let them rise under words that triggered her more than Joy would've liked.

 

Joohyun's tongue has always been sharp against her butter feelings – in the best kind of way, of course.

 

Right now, they’re both in her room, looking for clothes for Joohyun to wear because she’s soaking wet and as much as Joy loves having a wet lady in her bedroom, she cherishes her carpet more.

 

Joy can’t have Joohyun washing her apartment and padding drenched feet all over the floor.

 

Though she knows she could spare the girl a towel – which she did of course, but Joy’s already used it so it proved to be pretty much pointless.

 

Tossing a shirt filled with creases (because she knows Joohyun dislikes them) towards the older girl, Joy makes sure she kicks a pile of Yeri's clothes beneath her bed when Joohyun's not looking.

 

She's going to have to scold her temporary roomie for the mess she's made, as well as have her repay her for keeping her little runaway a secret.

 

“Where's your iron?”

 

Joy's eyes sweep around her room as Joohyun fiddles with the wrinkles of her aquamarine, scanning for any loose ends that hints Yeri's stay.

 

“Lost it, unnie.”

 

She shoves Yeri's tube of lipstick into her shorts pocket when Joohyun stops sending her a withering look.

 

Joy almost scoffs at sighting Yeri's signature coffee mug of squirtle at the bedside table, groaning at the distance she must make.

 

So much effort just to keep a damn secret (of running away) – that isn't even _hers._

 

“How do you lose an iron?”

 

Joohyun's patting down the aquamarine shirt, Joy's black sweats a size larger than her, making crinkles that pool over her feet.

 

“The same way you lose a matching pair of socks.”

 

Once Joy waddles carefully near the side of the bed, her hand whizzes across the platform, knocking over Yeri's squirtle cup to land on the mattress and flipping the corner of her green blanket to shield it from Joohyun's curious stare.

 

“How do you lose socks?”

 

Joy laughs, smoothing a hand over the sheets, spotting a purple that isn't hers, tucking Yeri's shirt to hide underneath it.

 

That girl is such a sloth.

 

“Oh you know, throw it into the washing machine, then dryer it, and voila – a matching pair somehow disappears in the middle of it and you'd only realize when you're folding clothes.”

 

Joohyun only hums, a thinking finger tapping against her chin.

 

Joy scowls when she sees Yeri's black work slacks.

 

Just when Joohyun is about to turn towards its direction, Joy dives to cover it, acting as a makeshift wall for pants that aren't hers, pretending to pose on her bed.

 

Joohyun is giving her this lost look, an elegant eyebrow arched as if to question: ‘What the hell are you doing,’ but Joy intercepts because she doesn’t want to hear it.

 

She’ll fish for a compliment so hiding hints of Yeri’s presence would actually be worth it.

 

“Tell me I'm sexy, unnie.”

 

Joohyun blinks at her.

 

“...Do you feel sexy?”

 

No, she wants to say.

 

In fact, she feels really, really, _really,_ stupid right now.

 

All this effort of playing as a good friend for a bum of a friend who can’t-clean-up-after-herself, is _exhausting._

 

“Only if I hear it from you.”

 

Stupid black work pants.

 

And why was she even bothering to be such a good friend to Yeri? She doesn't even clean up after herself.

 

Joohyun's lips curl upwards after a moment, a chuckle escaping her as she combs a hand through her hair.

 

“Sure, Sooyoung. You're sexy.”

 

Joy cackles at the compliment she's managed to squeeze out of Joohyun (though it hadn’t been hard at all), blowing a playful kiss in return, inwardly happy at the easy confession.

 

She watches the older girl shake her head as she leaves the room, mumbling about getting the hairdryer for her wet hair and clothes.

 

Taking this as an opportunity to call Yeri and warn her about her ex-lover practically waiting ‘at home’, Joy dials quickly, pressing her cell against her ear.

 

When the line clicks open Joy can’t hide her glee.

 

“Hey loser,”

 

Suspicion is easy to hear in Yeri’s voice.

 

_“What?”_

 

“You coming back yet?”

 

A few shuffling cracks through, the sounds faintly similar of plastic – Yeri did say she’d go shopping.

 

_“On the way, actually.”_

 

Joy grins, hearing the hairdryer turn on in the bathroom; Joohyun managed to find it; though it wasn’t like the older woman didn’t know where it was already.

 

“Well, just so you know, Joohyun unnie is here.”

 

One,

 

Two,

 

Three beats of silence.

 

_“...Wait, what?”_

 

Joy’s already cackling in her head, amused at the tremor of both excitement and timid nervousness paint Yeri’s syllables.

 

She repeats it again for Yeri’s sake.

 

“Your ex is here—”

 

Then suddenly Yeri is spouting jitters, drilling her ear with panicked shrieks that Joy has to pull the phone away so it won’t blow her hearing out.

 

_“Did she find out?! Did you tell her?!”_

 

Joy’s plopping back on her bed, feeling her body sink into the mattress, rolling her eyes at her temporary roomie’s shriveling lips.

 

She could practically hear Yeri’s brain whir away at possible plans of avoiding Joohyun.

 

“No and no, though with your lack of faith in me I feel like I should.”

 

_“Don't you dare—”_

 

“Why are you even hiding from her? You said you two talked it out already.”

 

Joy’s used to the silence that comes along whenever she brings up Joohyun to Yeri.

 

The younger girl was always up for talking about her ex, but never the other way around, especially when they were questions instead of flashback rants.

 

Yeri’s voice is quiet, like she’s unsure of herself and Joy thinks that’s silly because out of all of them, Yeri’s been the most sure – in anything.

 

_“We did. It's just...”_

 

When she pauses and the silence drags on, Joy is scoffing, though she means no harm; Yeri always needed the extra push.

 

“I don't have all night, you know.”

 

Yeri’s laugh is weak and small. It’s so unlike her.

_“...I'm afraid that seeing her would make me kiss her again.”_

 

Four,

 

Five,

 

Six beats of silence.

 

Joy has to blink a sudden flurry of questions away just so she could have her mouth move again, shoving out words that she manages to put together despite the bomb surprise.

 

“...Wait, again?”

 

Joy notes the silence that filters through.

 

It clicks just as fast as the gut feeling she had when Seulgi couldn't look any more obvious with her stares at Wendy at their group date.

 

“When was the last time you kissed her?” She asks, finally putting a small bit of order in the chaos of questions she still has in her head.

 

Joy hears how Yeri tries to make it light, humor cracking through but Joy knows better.

 

_“On your couch.”_

 

She almost brings herself to yell at her, as well as call Joohyun over to interrogate because: how the hell did she not know this?

 

Joy’s about to screech out the older woman’s name to question her about it until Yeri speaks again, a tinge of affection so obvious on her lips.

 

_“When Irene unnie was asleep and you left me with her.”_

 

Oh.

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

Her mouth clicks shut, Joohyun's name fading off from the tip of her tongue.

 

She's glad she didn't jump the gun entirely – that would've been a bigger mess to clean up and Joy wasn't fond of fixing more things.

 

She goes for staring at her fingernails, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face.

 

Yeri’s not done though, her feelings suddenly transposed into a speech like she was prepared to explain herself. Joy’s a not-so-reluctant listener.

 

_“I...thought it'd be okay, you know? A 'one last time' kind of thing.”_

 

Joy hums, listening in to the way Yeri's shuddering breath comes out, shaky like she’s anxious – like she couldn’t believe she’s still going through this much longing for someone.

 

“But?”

 

 _“...But I feel like I'll keep making that excuse,”_ she hears Yeri shuffling with plastic, cutting crisp through the line; she’s probably fiddling with it to erase the nerves. _“Until it turns into a reason.”_

 

Joy is reminded of why she's such a good friend to Yeri.

 

Yeri likes to pretend she’s strong.

 

_“I can't afford to want her more than I already do.”_

 

Understanding pools across her mind, drowning away logic and reason of pointing out the obvious that Yeri's already way past that line – that Yeri’s voice is already screaming for Joohyun in the way she’d speak like she’s still kissing their memories goodnight before bed.

 

Joy settles for mute lips.

 

Spewing out loud what Yeri already knows is moot at this point (the younger girl was as sharp as her; they both just love to deny the inevitable as long as they could).

 

So Joy plays along instead, pretends she doesn’t hear Yeri is still in love with Joohyun, because she’s too used to their own denial game.

 

“So yeah, just wanted to let you know. Oh, and she's sleeping over.”

 

_“What?!”_

 

Joy snickers, yelling so her voice could reach through the sound of the hairdryer still screeching in her apartment.

 

“Unnie! You're sleeping over okay?”

 

Yeri’s already stuttering.

 

_“Joy unnie, no—”_

 

Joohyun’s voice pops in, breaking Yeri’s protest.

 

“Is that why you dragged me into the bathtub with you?!”

 

Joy’s already laughing at the opportunity and seizes it immediately, thinking fast.

 

“I just wanted to see you wet, Joohyun unnie!”

 

Yeri’s choking before she’s screaming and Joy has to pull the phone away again.

 

_“WHAT?!”_

 

Joy is cackling despite the shriek that pretty much made her ear ring at this point, loving the way she could feel Yeri practically seethe through the phone, her breaths huffing like a stuttering balloon.

 

“I'll just take your coat so I could go back home, Sooyoung.”

 

“We can share more than just clothes, Joohyun unnie!”

 

“Joy...” Yeri's growl is ferocious despite its low volume, formalities long gone. _“...what are you doing?”_

 

Joy’s already taking advantage of the fact that Yeri can only depend on what she hears.

 

“Unnie, that tickles!”

 

Joy squeals in pretend, chortling, vaguely hearing Joohyun's: “But I'm not even anywhere near you,” through the walls of her room as she listens in to Yeri's green voice.

 

It's obvious how the younger girl can't hear Joohyun's words over the phone, considering that the older woman had been rejecting her from the start.

 

Joy loves the fun that comes with it anyway.

 

_“Joy that's my ex!”_

 

She clicks her tongue, blowing off invisible lint from her fingertips, taking a moment to admire how slim and pretty they look. She should go for a cuter green next time.

 

Joy hears the hairdryer shut off.

 

“Yup. So hurry up so you can join us in our little fun.”

 

Yeri is sighing, rustling of plastic shooting through the line again.

 

_“You're horrible. And no, I'll just find someplace else to stay.”_

 

Joy raises a curious brow when Joohyun shuffles back into her room, watching her eyes widen before mouthing that she’s leaving, her hands gesturing goodbye.

 

The older girl was probably trying to be considerate, catching Joy that she was on the phone.

 

Joy mouths back an ‘okay’, preferring not to let slip that Joohyun won’t be staying over after all.

 

Listening to Yeri groan about it through the phone helps keep her mind off of things that barreled out for Joohyun to hear a few hours ago.

 

Shooing Joohyun with a hard slap on the back, her awkward way of saying ‘thanks for everything’, Joy throws a kiss at her before locking the door shut.

 

Slumping on the couch as Yeri continues to drill her ear with mundane things like a horrible customer at the store she had visited, Joy wonders if she should tell Yeri that Joohyun chose to go back home instead.

 

_“And he kind of reminded me of you, with his terrible personality, at least.”_

 

...Nah.

 

Lifting her feet to rest on the arm of her sofa, Joy will take this one peaceful night alone as compensation for hiding Yeri’s presence from Joohyun.

 

“Right, so what else is new?”

 

Heck, maybe they'll bump into each other and hopefully, they'll all talk it out – whatever the issue is. If not, at least she'll get to hear two different versions of the same story.

 

Grasping the remote, Joy flicks through the channels on her little TV.

 

Now what horror movie should she sleep to?

 

-

 

Yeri’s not sure where to stay.

 

She had been spontaneous with Joy, that she could find someplace else to spend the night, but really, she just didn’t want to bump into Joohyun – she wouldn’t be able to handle seeing her right now.

 

She needed time to cool off from a kiss she had stolen, as tiny as it was (frankly, it was nothing to even worry about; the older woman would never know).

 

Kicking a pile of dirty snow off the sidewalk, clutching to the plastic bag with jittery fingers to stave off a little bit of the winter chill, Yeri wonders if she should just go home.

 

“Yeri?”

 

Jerking up at the sound of her name, she spots Wendy exiting a music store, locking the door behind her.

 

“Oh, Wendy unnie!”

 

At best, Wendy was someone she could make simple conversations with, even when she knew Wendy meant more than a mere roommate to a certain older woman.

 

It prickles at her chest a little, that tiny bit of green envy.

 

“Um, are you heading home?”

 

Yeri curls her hands behind her back, letting the plastic bag of new clothes bump against the back of her knees, humming gently.

 

She still remembers how Joohyun had named Wendy as ‘Home’ on her phone.

 

“Not really,” Yeri says softly, kicking white snow off frosted pavement. “I…can’t.”

 

Wendy is approaching her, touching her shoulder.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Irene unnie will be staying at Joy unnie’s place tonight,” Yeri curls a strand of copper behind her ear. “I…don’t really feel like seeing her. At least, not yet.”

 

She watches the way Wendy’s brows crinkle in confusion, like the words she’s said makes no sense to her.

 

“Joohyun won’t be coming home…?”

 

From the tilting sound of Wendy’s voice, like she’s suddenly lost, Yeri could tell she hadn’t known.

 

Yeri ignores how obvious affection is tattooed on Wendy’s lips, the mere mention of ‘Home’ having colored her tone with a care Yeri knew all too well; one that she still shares.

 

She attempts to shake off the hint of worry in Wendy’s eyes.

 

“Irene unnie will probably let you know soon,” Yeri says, bumping her elbow with Wendy’s. “She’s not the type to disappear without notice, after all. Like me.”

 

She jokes lightly, hoping to make light of the atmosphere, noting how the older girl’s shoulders seem to sag lower than it already was. Yeri’s had her fair share of bad days; she knows when someone is currently going through their own.

 

It wasn’t hard to spot puffy red in Wendy’s eyes.

 

Wendy has this look of understanding, her lips tied on mute, and Yeri is grateful.

 

“Then um, if it’s not too much to ask…” Yeri spins to look at her, tilting her gaze to catch Wendy’s soft smile. “…Would you like to stay over for the night?”

 

She considers the offer with surprise, knowing that she’s never once stepped into Joohyun’s new apartment. Yeri’s sort of curious how their living arrangements are like; whether Joohyun still has ordered chaos as a room, or still have purple as the color of her pillows and bed sheets.

 

Knowing that Joohyun won’t be there for the night, Yeri can’t see any harm in it.

 

Yeri grins, curling an arm around Wendy’s and tugging her close.

 

“I’ll keep you company for tonight, Wendy unnie.”

 

-

 

Joy has just finished brushing her teeth when her phone dings.

 

Jumping at the sound of a notification, Joy is grumbling from the brief shock, yanking it out of her pocket before slumping lazily against the couch.

 

 _(Can I come over?)_  
Sender:  _Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes_  
Received:  _10:26:20 PM_  
Received:  _04/05/16_

 

The text barely processes in Joy's head before her mobile dings again, another pop-up lighting the screen.

 

 _(I don’t want to be alone tonight.)_  
Sender:  _Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes_  
Received:  _10:26:28 PM_  
Received:  _04/05/16_

 

She should’ve never asked to exchange phone numbers on their group date.

 

Joy considers the pros and cons of having Seulgi around, in her home, in the same tiny space she breathes in.

 

She imagines Seulgi loitering about in her kitchen, exploring her room, to lounging on her sofa.

 

It'd just be the two of them since Yeri won't be here (and it wasn’t like the sleepover with Joohyun was even going to happen since it was a joke in the first place).

 

Joy types in her reply, the answer obvious.

 

 _(No.)_  
Sender:  _Joy_  
Received:  _10:26:39PM_  
Received:  _04/05/16_

 

It doesn’t take a minute until Joy's ears perk up at the three knocks that bump her apartment door.

 

Did Yeri actually bother to come back?

 

_Huh. I guess she saw Joohyun unnie leave the apartment then._

 

She's already shaking her head, anticipating the shrieks and yells she'll inevitably hear.

 

Sighing, Joy’s already spewing words as soon as she turns the knob, wrenching it open so she won’t have to hear Yeri’s bomb of stuttering gibberish.

 

“Damn it Yeri, you better not tear my ear off with your—”

 

Joy's lips freeze up at the sight of someone who shouldn't be here – how did she even know where she _lived?!_

 

She watches lush lips open as if to speak but Joy reacts on reflex, faster than her mind could even fully process that yes, Seulgi is literally at her door.

 

Joy slams it shut.

 

“H-Hey! Joy!”

 

Seulgi squeaks, her voice muffled, a mixture of a shriek and yell which are ringing reminders that yes, she's real.

 

And she was actually here, at her door.

 

_...Crap._

 

“How did you even find out about my address?”

 

Joy interrogates quickly, the question squeezing between gritted teeth, hissing at the fact that Seulgi was actually right on the other side of the damn door.

 

Seulgi sounds like a nervous wreck.

 

“O-Oh, um, I asked Joohyun unnie…”

 

Damn it.

 

Joy considers keeping her out there because she’ll have to leave eventually anyway; the waiting game was nothing new to her.

 

Just when she’s about to take her first steps towards her bedroom to call it a night, Seulgi’s meek voice presses through the door; like she’s barely hanging on, ripping at the seams.

 

“…I really don’t want to be alone tonight…”

 

Joy doesn’t realize she’s already making her fists go white until she’s raising her hand for the knob, staring at the way her skin is paler than normal; she’s even shaking.

 

She can’t believe she’s this nervous.

 

Twisting the metal open, Joy hopes the warmth in her heart won’t spill from her lips.

 

“Get in.”

 

Watching Seulgi shuffle past her, with a smile so brokenly grateful, Joy already knows she’ll be regretting this.

 

She just doesn’t expect Seulgi to already drop another bomb as soon as she enters her home.

 

“I broke up with Wendy.”

 

Joy pretends she’s not surprised, though it’s hard when her mouth drops and doesn’t seem to want to get back up, snapping it to a close with a sharp click right before Seulgi turns to look at her.

 

She coughs into a hand, playing nonchalant as she circles her kitchen table, attempting to create a distance between them.

 

Seulgi is a walking temptation – especially when she is as vulnerable as she sounds.

 

Joy won’t be her booty call.

 

“Why did you breakup with her?”

 

She’s grateful her words stay steady, like she’s not affected by the fact that Seulgi is slowly heading towards her.

 

Joy makes sure to keep moving.

 

“Because I feel lonely when she holds me.”

 

Seulgi has this smile that startles Joy; filled with an understanding she couldn't comprehend; like Seulgi suddenly knew how the world worked.

 

Joy keeps mum, listening to tragedy spill from tremor lips.

 

“I pretended not to notice. I mean, I've been pretending for so long, that lying became a part of me. So it shouldn't have been so hard, right?” Seulgi laughs, though it sounds more like a choked sob. “And then I realized: it got easier to lie to myself, but it got harder to lie to her. I couldn't do that. Not anymore.”

 

Seulgi is looking at her, with this desperation for comfort in her eyes, like a plead had been written behind her sockets only to bleed out into her pupils.

 

Joy knows what’s coming next.

 

“Get out.”

 

“Joy—”

 

“You know I like you, don't you?”

 

She watches Seulgi step back, like she had just been hit.

 

“Y-You do?”

 

Joy is combing a hand through her hair, frustration lining her lips, coating her tongue to make sharp cuts across the air that is suddenly growing thicker each second.

 

She feels walls gradually close in on her.

 

“Why would I bother going to a stupid date if I didn't?”

 

“But I thought you said your friend set you up...”

 

Joy’s eyes snap to Seulgi, watching the way the older girl shrivels back.

 

“Yeah, well. I lied.” She’s already making her way towards the door, eager to remove Seulgi from her home. “Now get out because I'm not going to be your rebound.”

 

“Joy—”

 

She continues to plow through, her heart already drumming hard against her ears; Seulgi needs to leave.

 

Now.

 

“I'm not going to make you forget someone else, have you be happy for a split second, or even just for one night, because I'm that one-of-a-kind sort of girl who knows she deserves better than that.”

 

Joy’s already pulling the door open, jerking her head to usher Seulgi out.

 

But Seulgi isn’t moving.

 

“...You're all I ever wanted to be.” Seulgi mutters quietly, fiddling with her fingers. “And is that so bad? Being the one to make me forget – to be the one who makes me happy, even just for a second? Or for just one night?”

 

Joy's about to protest – scold her even, but Seulgi is giving her this resigned smile, like she's lost.

 

Desperation is pouring out of Seulgi’s lips like a broken faucet.

 

“I'm sorry, I just— I don't know, maybe...” Seulgi trails off, shrinking into herself, like the world had suddenly become too heavy to bear. “…maybe it's because I know you can make me laugh and all I want to do right now is laugh, you know? Is that so bad?”

 

Joy’s frozen by the door even when Seulgi takes her steps to leave, passing her by with a little nod and an unsure “Goodbye,” before the gears in Joy’s limbs finally respond, her head screaming at her to get Seulgi to stop.

 

Her hand shoots for Seulgi’s dainty wrist, fingers curling around delicate skin, tugging the older girl back just as she was about to be out of her reach.

 

Joy is huffing, blowing a strand of ebony out of her face.

 

“Come on. I’ll make you laugh to sleep.”

 

And the smile on Seulgi’s lips was the most beautiful she has ever seen.

 

-

 

“Here,”

 

Wendy says, plopping down a pair of sweats and a sweater for Yeri to wear, letting the materials coat the younger girl’s arms.

 

She doesn’t miss Yeri’s curious whisper.

 

“…These are Irene unnie’s.”

 

Wendy’s well aware that she was Joohyun’s ex.

 

But it didn’t take long for her to also know that Yeri still held feelings for the older woman, especially when Yeri had claimed that she couldn’t face Joohyun again.

 

At least, not yet.

 

She’s almost positive that Yeri wouldn’t be able to catch any rest unless she has a keepsake of Joohyun to sleep to.

 

Wendy knows she hasn’t been able to; not without Joohyun’s familiar scent of vanilla and lavender that thankfully still cradles her teddy bear.

 

It was far from the feel of Joohyun’s arms tied around her, but it was better than nothing.

 

“You’ll sleep in Joohyun’s room tonight, okay?”

 

“W-What?”

 

Wendy feels a smile crawl along her lips, curling auburn behind her ear.

 

“She won’t ever know. I’ll fix it up before she gets back, so you don’t need to worry.”

 

Yeri is looking at her with this gaze that speaks in volumes of pages that easily reflect the ones in her own heart – a novel made for one person.

 

It was no wonder Wendy had no qualms to offer Yeri a place to stay; they had written the same diary.

 

It’s just that Wendy also has one for another, too – which she still can’t remember the words to.

 

Wendy tucks the memory away, of how she had momentarily lost control of her own self – how her voice had been someone else’s to use.

 

It terrified her.

 

What if it comes back again and replaces her? Would she be gone?

 

Yeri is pulling her into a hug.

 

“Thanks, Wendy unnie.”

 

Wendy laughs, patting her back, pretending there’s nothing wrong – that her chest doesn’t feel like its walls are shrinking and crushing her lungs.

 

“What’s with the hug, Yeri?”

 

She feels Yeri hum, the warmth spreading into her skin, melding into her bones.

 

“You looked like you needed one.”

 

Wendy could already feel tears well up beneath her eyes, clutching at the back of Yeri’s jacket, holding on because suddenly she’s screwed up everything else.

 

She couldn’t make Seulgi happy. She couldn’t make Joohyun happy. She couldn’t make anyone happy – especially not herself.

 

But it’s not like she deserves it.

 

Wendy doesn’t know what to do anymore.

 

Like a ragdoll, her legs crumble; her face buried into Yeri’s shoulder and feels how the younger girl struggles to soften their fall, their knees landing onto the cold floor.

 

“U-Unnie?!”

 

Wendy barely hears Yeri’s startled call, only holding her tighter.

 

She’s at her limit.

 

The words Wendy’s kept in her head and heart for so long just come gushing through, like the switch had been shut off and the emergency hatch had been ripped apart, letting Wendy drown and be crushed under images she can’t live up to.

 

She lists their differences, one by one.

 

‘Seungwan’ and ‘Wendy’.

 

“…They talk about her like she always has happiness for a face, like she was strong and cool and calm and perfect. They hold her up like she never met the ground – like she couldn’t ever stoop as low. That she wrote the sun in people’s eyes whenever they hear of her, or see her – like she couldn’t ever be lost in the dark. All they seem to remember is how bright she had been that they can’t seem to realize she could burn out too.”

 

Wendy doesn’t notice she’s breathing through her mouth, puffing air out like she had ran away from everything that kept her back, fists shaking and lips in tremor because there’s still so much more she could say.

 

She could feel Yeri rub her back – a gentle presence from the flurry that keeps pouring through.

 

Wendy just wants to let it all out.

 

“…Everyone looks at me like I'm someone else. I try to let them know that I'm still here – that I'm right here, even if it doesn't look like it or if I seem to be different.”

 

She knows Yeri won’t understand – there was no context made for the girl, but Wendy just needs to let someone know.

 

Anyone.

 

Wendy bites back a sob, trembling against an anchor she never knew she could find in someone who loves Joohyun just as much – if not more.

 

“…I'm still me. I'm still here. Does that not matter…? Am I not good enough like this?”

 

And what if _it_ comes back again? Will she disappear?

 

Yeri keeps hush, like she’s the calm quiet that comes after a crushing wave, and as much as Wendy seeks for an approval, she finds peace in Yeri’s silence.

 

But she still can’t help but make taps on her wrist, even when there’s no watch to tick the noises in her head away.

 

There’s still so much more she could say.

 

“So you’re what’s left.”

 

Yeri’s steady voice curls into her ears like a support column, the audio plaque dying down to a quiet thrum.

 

“W-What?”

 

She feels Yeri begin to draw circles on her back.

 

“You’re the one without happiness as a face, the one who isn’t strong and cool and calm and perfect. You’re the one who’s met the ground, been at your lowest. You don’t write the sun in people’s eyes when they hear of you or see you. You’re the one in the dark. You’re the one who’s burned out.”

 

Wendy hadn’t expected to hear her words be repeated back to her, with a shift in tone – a direction she’s never really considered; but somehow, she always knew it was there.

 

It was just that no one seemed to care about it; so Wendy tried not to, either.

 

“You’re the one this perfect person has been trying to hide from everyone else. And it worked.”

 

Wendy’s not sure how Yeri manages to understand her – manages to make order out of discord, especially when she never told her anything else except spouting jumbles of words she knows make no sense to the younger girl whatsoever, but she’s grateful.

 

She’s not surprised that Joohyun had loved her (maybe even still does – Wendy’s not sure).

 

Yeri’s amazing.

 

Wendy holds her tighter, her insecurities spilling through.

 

“…What if she was never supposed to be here? That if she were gone, then things would go back to the way it was supposed to be? That she came out only because there was an accident? That she became a mistake and if she could just go away then—”

 

_But what would happen to me?_

 

Yeri’s pulling back, gripping her shoulders, fingers digging into her coat that Wendy’s surprised Yeri has sparks going off in her eyes.

 

She listens to the way Yeri’s voice command authority – how reprimand bleeds past her lips, scolding.

 

“So everything she's experienced – everything she got to feel and hear and see and touch and taste – none of that matters because everyone else seems to prefer the person she used to be?”

 

Wendy is struck dumb.

 

Yeri is flicking her forehead, forcing Wendy to shut her eyes at the impact.

 

“Does that sound right to you?”

 

Yeri’s question makes all the noises go away.

 

Wendy’s finger stops tapping on her skin.

 

“Isn't that sad? She's letting everyone mold her into a picture of what they think is right – what they assume to be her, that there's not enough space left for herself.”

 

She watches the younger girl stand, feeling Yeri’s hands curl around her wrists, pulling her up like she was yanking her out of troubled waters – wrenching her out onto the surface.

 

Suddenly Wendy could breathe.

 

“She sounds like a collage of everyone else's ideas except her own. Does that sound right to you?”

 

At that moment, Wendy felt like the world was no longer on her shoulders – that for a little bit, she got to feel free.

 

A listening ear was more than Wendy could ever ask for.

 

She’s never felt more thankful as she does now.

 

“…Thank you, Yeri.” She manages not to cry – at least not too much, wiping off the specks that have pooled beneath her eyelids. “…You really know what you want, don't you?

 

Yeri waves a dismissive hand, snorting.

 

“I do. But I'm a hypocrite.”

 

When Wendy pulls away, confused, Yeri’s already heading towards the bathroom, like she doesn’t want to stick around for the conversation.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Yeri smiles over her shoulder, the curve on her mouth wistful.

 

“I don't follow my own advice because if I did, I'd still be with Irene unnie.”

 

Watching her disappear behind a closing door, hearing it click shut, Wendy wonders if she had imagined the trembling on Yeri’s lips.

 

When the younger girl emerges later, Wendy makes sure not to bring Joohyun up again.

 

They don’t talk for long though, casually bouncing around topics of mundane things on the couch, dodging the fact that they had poured their hearts out earlier (more so herself than Yeri).

 

As soon as the clock hits twelve, spotting Yeri yawn midsentence into her story about work, Wendy thinks it’s time for bed.

 

Patting her back, Wendy helps Yeri up.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay? Stay for breakfast.” Wendy says once she’s shown Yeri Joohyun’s room, the younger girl dressed in familiar attire.

 

Yeri nods her head, a grateful grin on her face – so unlike the touch of regret she had seen earlier regarding Joohyun.

 

“Okay,” Yeri makes a tiny wave over her shoulder once she takes her first step into the room, wisps of vanilla and lavender already seeping through the air. “Goodnight, unnie.”

 

Wendy waves in return, stepping back slowly, Joohyun’s scent already filling her lungs with want.

 

“Goodnight, Yeri.”

 

The Joohyun never called to let her know she wouldn’t be home.

 

She ignores the disappointment welling up in her chest, recognizing that this must’ve been what Joohyun had felt that evening she had forgotten her goodnight.

 

This must be her payback.

 

Wendy spins to make steps towards her own room.

 

It’s okay, she thinks. She deserves it, after all.

 

-

 

Irene is sighing, shutting the door behind her with a soft click, noting the darkness that envelopes the apartment.

 

Dumping her boots by the door and hanging the coat on the rack, Irene’s eager to change into warmer clothes, to snuggle into the heat beneath thick blankets and sleep the exhaustion away.

 

At least Sooyoung felt better – or so Irene would like to think.

 

She remembers how the younger girl had a twinkling laugh before she left, her enthusiastic wave the final image Irene had before the door shut, accompanied by Sooyoung’s playful flying kiss.

 

Carefully, Irene shuffles through the plastic bags filled with food to place into the cabinets and refrigerator.

 

She hadn’t meant to take long at the store, but the lines were abnormally stretched out for an evening run.

 

She recalls Seulgi texting her while she waited in line, surprise having colored her lips to form a small ‘o’ at the vibration of her phone.

 

 _(Can you send me Joy’s address?)_  
Sender:  _Seulbear :)_  
Received:  _10:24:10 PM_  
Received:  _04/05/16_

Irene had been quick to reply, chuckling lightly at the contact name the younger girl had typed up for her during their first coffee-talk.

 

 _(I can. But why? Did you need to pick something up?)_  
Sender:  _Bae Joohyun Irene_  
Received:  _10:24:20 PM_  
Received:  _04/05/16_

 

She doesn’t remember Sooyoung ever mentioning having Seulgi over at her place. Maybe Sooyoung didn’t want her to know?

 

Irene had jumped at the vibration that came not a minute later.

 

 _(I just need to laugh tonight.)_  
Sender:  _Seulbear :)_  
Received:  _10:24:29 PM_  
Received:  _04/05/16_

Irene hadn’t questioned any further, understanding having washed over her completely, sending a quick text of Sooyoung’s address before shutting her phone to lock once she reached the cashier.

 

She had caught Seulgi’s ‘thank you, unnie’ before stepping out of the building and into the winter snow.

 

Irene had considered Sooyoung’s playful sleepover request, though it was obvious that she was housing one other person.

 

Sooyoung had tried to be clever; having caught the taller girl slide clothes around and beneath the bed and blankets when she thought Irene wasn’t looking.

 

Irene had spotted the squirtle cup as soon as she entered Sooyoung’s room.

 

She didn’t need to see more.

 

Irene would’ve laughed if she wasn’t so curious about the fact that Yerim was staying over – it seemed to have been going on for a while, even.

 

She tried not to snicker though, when Sooyoung had jumped to a pose on the bed from the corner of her eyes, attempting to hide the black slacks she remembered Yerim to have worn at work.

 

So out of pity for Sooyoung’s effort as a good friend to hide Yerim’s secret (it was obvious that it was a secret considering they were trying to hide it from her), Irene played along, masking her awareness with pretend ignorance.

 

_(“Tell me I'm sexy, unnie.”_

_“...Do you feel sexy?”)_

 

Irene chose not to stay when it was clear that Yerim was still hiding from her.

 

Yawning behind a hand, having placed the last item on the shelf, Irene stretches her arms before glancing at Seungwan’s closed door.

 

She’ll take a little peek to make sure Seungwan’s okay once she’s done changing out of Sooyoung’s wrinkled clothes.

 

Muffling another yawn, Irene heads for her own room.

 

-

 

Yeri shifts under the sheets at the feel of warmth combing through her hair.

 

She even hears the voice she's been listening to in her dreams call out to her, soft like cotton candy.

 

“Yerim...?”

 

Yeri's not quite sure where she is at the moment; she feels like she's molded in a cloud, secured in tender heat of blankets and a scent she's so used to associating with one particular person.

 

Blearily blinking through fog of slumber, Yeri rubs at her eyes to find Joohyun sitting close to her, a small smile painting the older woman's lips.

 

She's never had this kind of dream before.

 

It was always a movie reel of passing Joohyun by at mere street corners to walking down old memories of their shopping sprees together.

 

This feels all too real but it can't be. She's been avoiding her for so long – there would be no way she'd screw up now.

 

“...Yerim?”

 

This dream has Joohyun's voice down to a tee.

 

Yeri doesn't want to wake up.

 

Before she even realizes what she's doing, she's shooting up, curling desperate arms around Joohyun's shoulders and pulling her in for a taste of her sweet lips.

 

How cruel.

 

Even a dream has the right touch of her signature vanilla.

 

“…I love you,”

 

Yeri mutters against her mouth, warm and as soft as she remembers it to be, yanking her down so she could have Joohyun meld into her.

 

If only she had this much courage to tell her in reality.

 

“…I miss you,”

 

Yeri whimpers, slithering her arms to cradle Joohyun's face with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of Joohyun's hands press down on the mattress on either side of her head.

 

She's trapping Joohyun's upper lip between her own, this overwhelming urge to kiss her, to taste her more and more and _more_ – Yeri's never realized just how hungry she's been for Joohyun.

 

Maybe this dream could make up for a reality she can no longer have.

 

So Yeri pulls her impossibly closer, hoping that she could have another night of Joohyun's promises and love and lets feral want claw off the buttons of the woman's grey jacket.

 

But then Joohyun's trying to pull away, her words mumbling against Yeri's lips, writing into hungry flesh.

 

“Yerim, wait—”

 

Yeri is laughing a little. To think even in pretend, Joohyun's still close yet so far.

 

She grasps at Joohyun's shoulders, curling fingers to keep her there, right where Yeri has always wanted her to be.

 

With her.

 

“Even in dreams unnie, you're still as stubborn as ever.”

 

“Y-Yerim—”

 

Joohyun's adorable stutter has Yeri grinning into the older woman's neck, inhaling that wisp of lavender she's always loved on her.

 

If Yeri hadn't known this was all her mere imagination, she would've mistaken this for reality.

 

“...I shouldn't have let you go.”

 

She's about to pull Joohyun in again, taste that vanilla painted on luscious soft lips, when Joohyun maneuvers to kiss her forehead instead.

 

Yeri blinks at the warmth etching across her skin, the words pressing in like a tattoo.

 

“...I'm glad you're finally being honest with me.”

 

It makes Yeri's head spin, the nerves of wires going on overdrive, turning the gears to let slumber haze finally ease off her mind's eye.

 

Suddenly she's remembering that she had bumped into Wendy, took the offer of staying at her apartment, that Joohyun was supposed to be staying at Joy's for the night—

 

No.

 

No.

 

_No._

 

It can't be.

 

Yeri is curling fists against Joohyun's jacket, gripping her there, like she'd be the anchor to hold her from insanity.

 

This wasn't supposed to happen.

 

Yeri's not supposed to have told Joohyun any of that – that she still loves her, that she still misses her, that she shouldn't have left; Joohyun's not supposed to know _any_ of that.

 

“Y-You're just a dream...”

 

“Yerim...”

 

When Yeri looks up, sees the way Joohyun stares at her with those eyes – those loving, caring, beautiful, eyes, Yeri clenches her teeth.

 

It can't be.

 

“You're supposed to be a dream. You're not—” Yeri is shutting her eyes, willing the picture of Joohyun above her to be mere sleep cloud; praying that it would be fake. “—You're not supposed to _know,_ unnie!”

 

But Joohyun is curling her copper-red hair behind her ear, her touch grazing the skin so gently that Yeri knows it can't be just her mere imagination.

 

It feels all too real.

 

_No..._

 

“Yerim,”

 

With a force she's kept to herself of pent up frustration – at the world, at herself, Yeri shoves Joohyun off, hoping it'd take her away – that it'd erase every mistake she's made.

 

Yeri is already up, scrambling for the door.

 

She shouldn't have come; she shouldn't have accepted Wendy's kind offer – she should've figured that Joohyun would come back.

 

She had worked so hard to hide her heart from Joohyun.

 

“Yerim.”

 

Yeri tries to wrench her wrist free from Joohyun’s firm grip, wondering vaguely how the older woman could be so strong – or maybe she really wanted to get caught, be tugged back, and fall into her arms.

 

But she’s desperate.

 

“Unnie—!”

 

“I thought we cleared everything up already.”

 

Yeri stiffens when Joohyun circles around her, blocking the door, her face stern, but the softness in her eyes are still there – _they’re always there._

 

She curls her hands into fists.

 

“We did.” Yeri’s brain whirs into overdrive, quickly coming up with a plan – any plan, to make an excuse for her earlier confessions. “I was just messing with you. I didn’t mean any of it, so don’t overthink it.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Good.”

 

“But _you’re_ the one trying to run away from something you supposedly don’t mean.”

 

Yeri flinches, wincing back at Joohyun’s tender touch along her wrist.

 

She flicks it off, attempts to erase the heat that she has always found to be reassuring – her pillar of support.

 

Maybe her senses have heightened too much to catch even minute details, but Yeri hears the small creak of Joohyun’s door, almost mute, spotting Wendy innocently peeking through.

 

Yeri finds her perfect escape route.

 

“Don't try to fall in love with me again.”

 

Irene recoils, her expression scrunching up, as if trying to process the sudden change in topic, a frown lining her lips.

 

“What?”

 

Yeri continues on, derailing further – anything, to get away from explaining more of her treasured secrets; she’d rather hide them away until they all disappear.

 

It was working before, until she screwed up and had stolen a kiss.

 

Yeri needs more time.

 

“You don't smell like coffee anymore, unnie.”

 

Joohyun’s confusion is palpable on her face, how her brows have crinkled, her eyes attempting to scavenge Yeri’s expression for any signs of direction.

 

Yeri’s glad Wendy has chosen to keep quiet, undoubtedly listening in.

 

“…Because I’m not looking for you in it anymore.”

 

Joohyun’s voice is low, almost a whisper, but Yeri hears it as clear as a screeching speakerphone.

 

She hopes Wendy has heard it, too.

 

Yeri trudges on, fiddling with the sleeve of Joohyun’s sweater (that she can’t believe she’s still wearing).

 

“You don't smell like smoke either.”

 

Joohyun is running a hand through her hair, frustration lining the edges of her syllables, like she’s getting tired of going around in circles.

 

“Because I'm not trying to forget you anymore.”

 

Yeri hums, pretending she doesn’t feel regret poking at her chest, ignoring the prickles of pain for every word Joohyun makes that cements the fact that she’s no longer the one Joohyun thinks about.

 

She’s always known anyway. Ever since she’s found out that Joohyun has settled for calling Wendy ‘Home’.

 

Yeri wonders if Wendy even knows.

 

“Good. Don’t go falling in love with me again, okay?”

 

Yeri’s always been thankful for her skill of making detours in conversations – it’s why she has never stopped running; because it’s all she really knows how to do.

 

But Joohyun’s words make her pause, makes the gears in her head stop spinning, abruptly ending several ways she’s been conjuring up to escape.

 

She should’ve known that Joohyun’s blunt honesty would keep her to a still.

 

“You make it sound like falling in love with you was a choice I could make.”

 

Yeri’s not sure why her mouth calls out for her, but it does; an apology already dancing along her lips for toying around, beating around the bush, dodging Joohyun’s genuine concern for her just so she could run away.

 

Again.

 

“Unnie,”

 

But Joohyun's giving her this smile, small and wistful and understanding.

 

“Don't worry,” Joohyun knocks Yeri’s forehead with a gentle knuckle, a weak laugh spilling her lips. “Seungwan's all I see now.”

 

Yeri smiles to hide her wince, pretends that it doesn't hurt to hear someone else's name on Joohyun's sweet lips.

 

She spots Wendy’s mouth cracking open, her eyes widening in fractions, catching that spark of happiness coloring pools of brown.

 

Yeri remembers how sadness enveloped the shorter woman earlier and thinks, yeah, she deserves this moment of bliss.

 

She won’t ruin it.

 

“That's good to hear.”

 

It's all Yeri could say, turning around so Joohyun won't see how much her face betrays the lie on her mouth.

 

God, she’s such a hypocrite.

 

“But you’re staying over, okay? It’s late.”

 

Yeri’s too tired to argue, looking over her shoulder, feeling toxin poison her tongue to spill between her smiling teeth.

 

She convinces herself that she’s doing the right thing.

 

At least she has escaped having to explain herself.

 

“Don’t sleep on the couch. Share the bed with Wendy unnie tonight or else I’m leaving.”

 

Before she gets to hear Joohyun’s protest, how her lips have curved into a frown, Yeri hears the door screech further open, Wendy’s squeak cutting through the air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took quite a bit of time to find the right words to explain how each of them feel. I consider this one of the hardest updates to write, simply because it was more vocally emotional and I’m not good with having characters talk about their feelings so openly like this. But I’m glad we’ve reached this point in time where they are finally confronting their feelings – for the most part.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.


	13. Disarray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy's knees are soaked with fragility.

Wendy's knees are soaked with fragility.

 

She's not prepared for a surprise that leaves Yeri's lips; an impromptu condition for staying the night:

 

_(“Share the bed with Wendy unnie tonight or else I'm leaving.”)_

 

But time isn't kind to her, her legs giving out from a trembling heart before she could back away – avoid getting caught. Wendy's teetering forward and all she has is a moment to grab on the knob to help steady her feet.

 

It doesn't do much though, when her throat can't help but utter a squeak, staggering into a conversation that should not have been heard by her in the first place.

 

Wendy manages to stand upright again, catching Joohyun's wide eyes and jaw hanging open.

 

Her brain is already whirring away with excuses for her intrusion.

 

“Seungwan? What are you doing here?”

 

Out of all the things Wendy could think of, the only one that rattles her brain at the moment is “I’ve missed you” – something that is completely inappropriate given the circumstances.

 

Waking up to purple words scribbled on tiny notes, and breakfasts made too early that they go cold – Wendy can't think of anything more than what is engraved in her chest.

 

But that's not what she should say, because Yeri's here and Wendy's not going to hurt her like that.

 

Joohyun's already walking closer that it makes Wendy meek at the sudden undivided attention. Wendy fiddles with the hem of her sweater, looking up between bangs that shield part of her eyes.

 

Joohyun looks nervous, how she's biting her lip, as if forcing words to not leave her mouth.

 

_(“Seungwan's all I see now.”)_

 

Wendy could feel the blush paint her cheeks at the memory, crossing the planes of her neck to color heat even along her ears.

 

“I just wanted a glass of water, but I noticed your boots by the door, Hyun, so...” Wendy's curling auburn behind her ear, “...so I thought I should let you know that Yeri was staying over.”

 

That was true enough, Wendy thinks. Joohyun doesn't need to know that she had lingered behind the door, listened in to what should've been kept private between the two of them.

 

Wendy hadn't planned on listening in, but there was a certain spark in Yeri's eyes when their gazes met as soon as she peeked through, as if to command her to play witness to their exchange.

 

“Wendy unnie was kind enough to let me stay the night,” Yeri's voice punctures the air, “Aren't you supposed to be sleeping over at Joy unnie's?”

 

Wendy watches Joohyun spin back around to Yeri, her head tilting at the question, as if it was a foreign thought.

 

She can imagine Joohyun's brain whirring away in the silence, how there's a brief pause before Joohyun's speaking again, sounding surprised.

 

“Sooyoung was joking,” Joohyun’s, combing her hair back. “Is that why you're here? Because you wanted to avoid me?”

 

Yeri's expression shifts, eyes wide and mouth falling open, before turning into a scowl.

 

Wendy's not quite sure why there's venom spilling Yeri's throat then, the tension in her voice strained and muted, but overbearingly present.

 

“...So she just chose not to tell me,” Yeri says, as if it was a thought reserved for herself, Wendy's ears catching the tinge of betrayal in her syllables.

 

“Yerim,” Joohyun starts again, but Yeri's glancing back up at her, eyes narrowing.

 

“You're right. I did. And I still want to avoid you.” Wendy could feel Yeri's sharp words puncture her lungs; she can't imagine what Joohyun must be feeling. “But here we are.”

 

Wendy expects Joohyun to protest, probe a little further, but not the tired sigh that escapes her lips, sounding frustrated like her patience has run thin.

 

She jumps when Joohyun turns back towards her, spotting the way her roommate's jaw is clenched. Wendy's never seen pain painted quite like the one on Joohyun's face, a mixture of volcanic anger and hurt just waiting to erupt.

 

“Goodnight, Yerim.”

 

Joohyun still manages to sound calm, but Wendy recognizes the strain in her voice, just like how Joohyun had tried to avoid her, before:

 

_(“I can't keep waking up to you if you're supposed to be waking up to someone else instead.”)_

 

Wendy reaches out, timid fingers clutching Joohyun's sleeve just as the taller woman is about to leave them both completely.

 

She wants to take Joohyun's pain away; it can't be healthy to let it build up – it never is, but Joohyun's slipping from her grasp, never once stopping to look at her.

 

Wendy's throat is clogged up in nerves at the lack of acknowledgment, Joohyun’s name never leaving the tip of her tongue, watching her retreat into the living room.

 

“Irene unnie's always been stubborn,” Yeri sounds just as exhausted, like there was no fight left in her, either. “Keeping everything in – she should stop making you worry so much.” She giggles, but it’s weak and broken. “Wouldn't want you to get wrinkles, Wendy unnie.”

 

Wendy can't read her. Yeri makes the act of pretend look like a joke.

 

“Aren't you worried about her too?” Wendy asks.

 

She catches Yeri's wistful smile.

 

Yeri is settling back into Joohyun's bed, bringing the blanket up, like she hadn’t just sort-of argued with Joohyun.

 

“You should go, unnie. It's getting late.”

 

Wendy frowns at Yeri's nonchalance, feeling almost disturbed even, like nothing affects her anymore. But as soon as she sits by her side, just to help adjust the pillows under Yeri's head, Wendy catches the girl’s eyes well up.

 

It's muffled by shaking hands, how the younger girl shields her face behind unsteady fingers; like she's attempting to keep silent so as not to alert Joohyun. But the tremor in her sobs quake like she's tired of hiding it all.

 

“I'm sorry, unnie...” Wendy shakes her head, combing gentle fingers through Yeri's hair. “...I'll be quiet, I promise.”

 

Wendy hushes her worries, clicking her tongue.

 

“Joohyun's not the only one who should stop keeping everything in.” Wendy says, poking the girl’s forehead, a muffled laugh filtering through Yeri's throat.

 

She doesn't know how long it takes for Yeri to finally fall into slumber, but when she does, Wendy can still see the tears that have trailed her cheeks, her skin still dusted in pink. She wipes them off so they don’t stain her any longer.

 

Wendy makes sure strands of copper don't fall over her face, memorizing the way Yeri's bundled in purple – clutching the sheet and pillows like they were her lifeline.

 

When she leaves Joohyun's room, shutting the door behind her, she finds Joohyun sitting on the couch, a hand propping her chin, gazing through the window.

 

Wendy approaches her carefully, settling across from her. It's a little fascinating; how Yeri and Joohyun mirror each other in terms of silence. They have so much to say, yet they can't seem to put them into words when finally confronted with what matters most.

 

They're both equally stubborn, too.

 

“Is Yerim finally asleep?”

 

Wendy stiffens when Joohyun's eyes sweep towards her, seemingly calculating and indifferent.

 

But the warmth in her voice is suffocating.

 

“She is,” Wendy fiddles with the ends of her sleeves on her lap, avoiding her stare. “I'm sorry, for um, offering her to stay. I should've asked for your permission first, especially since it's _your_ room and—”

 

“You did great, Seungwan.” Wendy looks up, “With everything. Thank you.”

 

Joohyun's smile has Wendy's lips stuttering, returning her gaze down to continue twiddling with the ends of her sweater.

 

“Oh. You're welcome.”

 

She doesn't know what to do now. There's still tension in the air, considering that they themselves haven't spoken much lately, either. Wendy has grown accustomed to purple words on paper as a replacement for Joohyun, so now that they're suddenly talking again, Wendy's not sure what to say.

 

Will this even last? This is the most they've ever talked since Joohyun had started avoiding her. Will they go back to doing that?

 

“Yerim likes to lie a lot,” Wendy's gaze snaps up at attention, “About her feelings. She tries to sound like she doesn't care, but that just means she cares so much that she's afraid of showing it.”

 

Wendy's not sure why Joohyun's telling her this, but maybe she just needs someone to talk to – to _listen._ Joohyun's always been more comfortable being silent with how she feels.

 

Maybe she could be her outlet.

 

Joohyun's rubbing her temple with tired fingers, a weak sigh escaping her throat.

 

Wendy bites her lip as soon as Joohyun's gaze shifts towards her, exhaustion palpable on her roommate's face, but it makes Wendy feel abnormally warm under it.

 

Her cheeks only flare hotter at Joohyun's small smile.

 

“Mind if I join you tonight?”

 

Wendy’s answer leaves her mouth faster than she’d like to admit.

 

“Of course not!” Wendy squeaks, rushing to tone down the excitement already oozing out of her skin. “I-I mean, I don't mind...”

 

Joohyun’s chuckles only makes Wendy want to hide, attempting to bury her ears into the collar of her sweater.

 

Half to play as distraction for her splutter and half out of curiosity, Wendy asks the question that has been bugging her the moment she found Joohyun waiting in the living room.

 

“If you knew Yeri had trouble sleeping,” Wendy watches Joohyun’s brow arch up, “Why didn't you go to her?”

 

Joohyun hums, like she's working out an answer. Wendy catches her comb fingers through her hair, ebony cascading over her shoulders.

 

“Because she would lie to me and say that she was fine.” Joohyun's rubbing a hand behind her neck, as if to massage the kinks in her muscles. “So I stayed here.”

 

Wendy keeps mum, going back to twiddling with her fingers, avoiding Joohyun's steady gaze.

 

But she isn't prepared for Joohyun to speak again, swallowing at the question.

 

“Did you hear what we were talking about?”

 

Her mind immediately goes to Joohyun's confession, words she's never expected to leave the taller woman's lips.

 

_(“Seungwan's all I see now.”)_

 

Wendy settles her eyes back up at Joohyun, biting her lip.

 

“...A little bit.” When Joohyun looks at her, brows furrowed, Wendy clears her throat. “Like how you should sleep in my room instead of the couch or else Yeri would leave.”

 

That was true; Wendy did hear that, too.

 

When she thinks about it though, Joohyun's already told her how she felt, more blunt than the confession she's heard between a lover's quarrel.

 

_(“Apologize for what?”_

_“For kissing you, for wanting you, for touching you, and for thinking about how much I want to do it all over again.”)_

 

That was a confession all on its own.

 

Joohyun's laughing.

 

“I guess I don't really have to since she's asleep now, hm?”

 

But Wendy doesn't want that. She wants Joohyun to be with her, stay by her side and play as her anchor like she's always been – right from the start.

 

Wendy stretches the cuff of her sleeve, attempting to hide her jittering fingers, counting numbers away; her head is filling up with memories of good nights they had shared together.

 

She wants them to hold each other again.

 

“The couch isn't all that comfortable, anyway.” Wendy says, her voice meek. “And what if Yeri wakes up too early? She might see you...”

 

Throwing excuses left and right; Wendy wonders if Joohyun knows what she's doing – that underneath all the logic that leaves her mouth, Wendy just wants to be with her.

 

Joohyun's hand clasping her wrist has Wendy jolting up.

 

“Come on, then.”

 

It's automatic when Wendy stands, grasping Joohyun's fingers to link between her own, deprived of her roommate's touch.

 

Wendy immediately feels at ease when Joohyun squeezes their hands together, leading her into her room, guiding her to the bed.

 

When Wendy settles between the sheets, she expects Joohyun to snuggle up with her, like they always do, but Joohyun's turning over so her back is all Wendy can see.

 

The air is still crippling, a mixture of awkwardness and familiarity that blankets her lungs, a sort of electric charge that colors the space between them.

 

Wendy wonders if Joohyun can feel it, too.

 

“...Have you been sleeping?”

 

She almost jumps at the sound of Joohyun's voice, as soft as she remembers it to be, when they whisper “Goodnight” before bed.

 

Wendy's fingers can't help but crawl a little closer, seal the distance between them, the tips of her nails combing at the back of Joohyun's sweater.

 

If Joohyun feels her touch, she doesn't show it.

 

“...I've been managing,” Wendy’s fiddling with the loose material, wondering if she should tug it and urge Joohyun to turn and look at her. “The teddy bear helps.”

 

It sounds like a sigh of relief that escapes Joohyun.

 

“That's good,”

 

No, it's not good, Wendy wants to say – to _scream._ It hasn't been good since Joohyun’s stopped sleeping with her; stopped _being_ there, with her.

 

“It's been hard,” Wendy hopes that a sliver of truth will fix whatever's broken between them, “...I've gotten used to being with you.”

 

There's a pause in the air, her words sinking into the quiet, loud in her ears. Wendy’s heart is bare in the dark, but Joohyun's silence is more terrifying than the confession that lingers above them.

 

Wendy thinks Joohyun has fallen asleep, or maybe has chosen to ignore her instead, but she's perking up at Joohyun's voice returning to fill the room.

 

“...I've gotten used to being with you, too.”

 

It’s nothing Wendy expects, but it’s one her heart sings to hear.

 

Scooting closer, pressing timid palms against Joohyun's back, Wendy attempts to keep warm. Joohyun isn't holding her, but it’s okay. It’s better than not having her here at all.

 

Wendy leans in, mouth pressing against the soft material of Joohyun's sweater, mumbling words she's kept solely in her heart so they could finally spill across Joohyun's back.

 

Wendy wants to let her know.

 

“...I've missed you.”

 

Her ears, her face, her body – they all feel like they're drowning in pools of burning coal, skin flushing over the silence of her room.

 

Wendy's not sure if she wants Joohyun to respond, or if the quiet was her response at all.

 

“I've missed you, too.” Joohyun's strained voice has Wendy curling closer, fingers digging into her sweater, balling into fists.

 

Wendy lets her heart slip again before she could swallow it back down.

 

“...Then why won't you turn around and hold me like you used to?”

 

Maybe she's misread it but she could feel Joohyun stiffen under her fists, her back as rigid as a frozen lamppost – a form of quiet, illuminating, support.

 

“Because I still want you.” Joohyun says, as if to whisper, but it's loud enough to coil around Wendy's lungs, squeeze air out of her lips.

 

She could feel Joohyun still tense under her fingers, but it's not until Wendy presses her ear against Joohyun's back that she really understands.

 

Joohyun's heart is racing – something Wendy knows all too well when it comes to Joohyun herself.

 

To think she makes Joohyun's pulse sprint like this. Wendy's relieved and happy, despite everything.

 

Finding no reason to hide the smile painting her mouth, Wendy cuddles closer, burrowing against warmth her teddy bear cannot replicate. As much as she loves having such an effect on the older woman, she hopes her presence could help her relax, too.

 

“...Goodnight, Hyun.” Wendy says, tapping a finger even when there aren't any noises in her head.

 

She recalls how Joohyun had saved her at the café all those months ago, when they barely knew one another, how Joohyun had seemed to calm down from her habitual ticking.

 

As much as she wants to follow Yeri's advice of curling her hands behind Joohyun's ears (it undoubtedly works; she _has_ tried it before), it wouldn't be the same. It was Yeri's to use, to keep, to treasure – it was _their_ secret.

 

Wendy wants to aid Joohyun on her own – to have something memorable only the two of them could share, too.

 

It takes 43 taps against Joohyun's sweater before the older woman's heart rate begins to slow, her back no longer as rigid as it had been. She could hear Joohyun's relaxed sigh, a mere hum that plays a welcomed melody in her ears.

 

“…Goodnight.” Joohyun says, feeling the way her back relaxes against her hands.

 

Without a second thought, Wendy leaves a kiss between Joohyun's shoulder blades, hands providing equal amount of pressure against her back so Joohyun can't discern the spontaneous intimacy. It certainly helps that Joohyun's chosen to wear a thicker sweater, too.

 

They don't say anything else after that, the streaks of moonlight from the windowsill drawing a particular comfort Wendy hasn't had for the past few nights without Joohyun by her side.

 

Even when Joohyun's breathing steadies to a constant rhythm, watching how Joohyun's shoulder slightly rises and falls at a pace that hints at her dreaming, all Wendy wants to do is stay awake so this moment could last a little longer.

 

Wendy nuzzles against Joohyun’s back, careful to not disturb Joohyun's silence, and makes due without Joohyun's arms to hold her.

 

Tonight, Wendy listens to the music she’s missed sleeping to, letting Joohyun’s pulse call the curtains over her eyes.

 

-

 

Seulgi's a horror movie Joy never thought she'd choose to sleep to.

 

Why couldn't she just flick Seulgi off with a press of a button on her remote? She should've never opened the door.

 

Awkward couldn't even _begin_ to describe what Joy is feeling at the moment.

 

She should've closed the door on Seulgi and ignored the fact that it was because she felt bad. Hell, she should be feeling bad for _herself,_ more than anything else.

 

Going so far as to imply that Seulgi could stay over for the night—

 

_(“I'll make you laugh to sleep.”)_

 

— What the hell was she thinking? What's there to laugh about anyway?

 

Joy almost takes it back, the words spinning on her tongue – almost manages to fix her mistake and kick Seulgi back out of her apartment when the object of her annoying affections speaks like she's utterly grateful.

 

“You're a life saver,”

 

Satan should just kill her now and rip her soul apart; anything has to be better than having to deal with Seulgi loitering about in her apartment, on her _couch._

 

She better not put a foot into her bedroom.

 

“Whatever.”

 

Joy waves a lazy hand, but she knows better than to stare at Seulgi for long, dodging the older woman's eyes when she attempts to look her way.

 

There's no way she's drowning in ugly shades of brown on an ugly bear face with stupid bun hair and a stupid—

 

“Hey, I've painted this park before.”

 

Seulgi's shuffling towards a set of Polaroid shots she had taken a while back, reflecting each season through the same landscape.

 

Joy recognizes it to be the park where she had first seen Seulgi busily painting atop a hill – and where Seulgi had never left her mind, since.

 

“Yeah well, my pictures are better.”

 

Seulgi's sticking her tongue out at her, but Joy only waves it off.

 

Slinking the remote back into her palm, Joy slumps against the sofa, flicking through the channels for something that isn't a horror movie. She remembers Seulgi mentioning once before that she gets scared easily, after all.

 

She can't be bothered to deal with the screaming and potential hearing loss.

 

When Seulgi drops into the space beside her, closer than Joy would consider comfortable, she coughs into a hand and attempts to make conversation; anything to distract herself from attempting to shift closer to Seulgi.

 

“...I never imagined you'd ever break up with Wendy.”

 

Not exactly the best topic to start off with, but Seulgi's laughing beside her despite the gravity of her words; Joy can’t tell if it’s genuine.

 

“I didn't either,”

 

Joy looks away when Seulgi curls a stray strand of hair from her face, tidying it behind an ear.

 

No one should look that cute doing something as mundane as _that._

 

“I guess you have some backbone after all,”

 

Joy catches Seulgi smile, watches her giggle. She expects the silence that follows after, understanding that there was nothing more to be said.

 

Helping to dissuade the sadness in her eyes, Joy flicks to a channel about food just so it could play as background noise.

 

“What's it like?” Joy’s standing to settle on a chair in the kitchen, Seulgi following suit. “Being stuffed in a bear costume and dealing with loud kids for several hours a day.”

 

Seulgi's laughter is heavenly, soothing like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter evening.

 

Maybe she should make them some, tonight.

 

“Tiring, and painful, especially on the ears.” Seulgi’s resting her chin on her palm, “But it's fun too. The hugs are the best part, though.”

 

Joy hums, pretending to glance at her nails, eyeing the way Seulgi droops to rest her head on her arms atop the table.

 

This girl gets comfortable way too fast.

 

“They always say I give the best hugs,”

 

Joy shrugs.

 

“I wouldn't know,” when she catches Seulgi attempt to stand, Joy is quick to stop her, raising a hand. “And I'm not planning to find out, either.”

 

Seulgi's pouting is deadly and adorable and a devil's work. She should just go make some hot cocoa; at least then she'd have something else to do to busy herself with than dodging curious and cute eyes.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Joy doesn't know why Seulgi calling out to her has her limbs practically on fire, gushing with warmth faster than she could spout a retort. Ignoring that her cheeks are growing ablaze, Joy keeps her back turned on her late night guest, shuffling through her cupboard.

 

“Making hot chocolate,”

 

“Oh, me too!”

 

Hearing Seulgi's chair screech behind her has Joy's heart jumping in her chest, scowling over her shoulder.

 

“Just sit down.”

 

“But I can help you...?”

 

“I don't need it.”

 

She makes sure her voice is sharp, making no room for arguments. Joy's not up for more intimate types of bonding like making hot chocolate together when Seulgi's already in her home, in her kitchen, watching her.

 

With the only sounds of the instructions of a recipe Joy has no interest in ever eating plays through the TV, she busies herself with sifting through the cupboard. Grateful for the new calm settling in her chest instead of a racing pulse, Joy makes work with a settled storm in her head.

 

“I'm sorry,” Seulgi says after Joy turns on the kettle.

 

“...What?”

 

Hm, she's running out of chocolate powder. She'll have to go out and buy another tomorrow. Maybe Yeri would want to accompany her; she'd probably want to talk about where she's chosen to stay for the night, too. Should she call her?

 

“For not knowing how you feel about me.” Seulgi pauses, her words putting a halt on Joy's thoughts. “That you _like_ -like me.”

 

Joy shrugs, relieved her back is facing Seulgi so she can't see the way her teeth grits each syllable.

 

“It wasn't like you were supposed to know, anyway. So don't worry about it.” Her tongue ever her sharpest tool, “Besides, you only found out now. You're excused.”

 

“Still,” Seulgi starts, hearing her guest tap on her bar table. “I know how it feels to not be noticed.”

 

Joy thinks back on her custom-designed green dress she had tossed in the trash. That was a dumb double date; it really shouldn't have happened.

 

The only good thing that came out of it was Yeri and Joohyun finally bumping into each other, face-to-face. Joy was getting tired of hearing Yeri whine about Joohyun; even _if_ she never explicitly did.

 

Longing sighs during the day and whimpering cries during the night were more than enough compared to verbal words, anyway.

 

“It's fine,” Joy watches the kettle's steam draw lines into the air. “That's normal.”

 

“But it shouldn't be,”

 

“As nice as that sounds,” Joy turns to look at her, “Let's be honest. We don't keep track of things we don't care about.”

 

Seulgi jolts up in her seat, her expression a mixture of shock and confusion.

 

“B-But I _do_ care about you—!”

 

“No.” Seulgi’s lips are curling into a frown, sketches of words waiting to be said, but Joy's quicker. “No, you don't. And frankly, that's good. Even more reason to get over you.”

 

“Joy…”

 

She doesn’t want to hear it; they’re all just little white lies that do poorly in covering the obvious truth. Besides, having Seulgi not care about her will only make moving on easier.

 

“Listen,” Joy crosses her arms, curling a hair behind her ear. “No offense, but I’m not the type to wait.”

 

Seulgi's pursing her lips at her but Joy ignores it, twisting back around so she can't look at the way Seulgi stares at her – all sad like her feelings were actually hurt. How hilarious. What a pretty lie.

 

Joy glares at the kettle. The water should be boiling hot by now.

 

“And when I get over you, we could laugh about it together. Wouldn’t that be great?”

 

Seulgi’s silence is all Joy needs to hear.

 

She clenches her eyes shut at the sound of a chair screeching against the floor – Seulgi’s moving. Leaning heavy hands against her countertop, refusing to look back, Joy spits out a command that makes no room for objections.

 

“So just sit down, shut up, and wait for your hot chocolate.”

 

Joy can’t wait for the evening to be over.

 

-

 

When Joy calls it a night and the lights go out, she hears Seulgi's voice call out to her, meek and nervous.

 

“Hey, um, do you happen to have a nightlight? I can't really sleep in the dark...”

 

Joy is rolling her eyes, even when she knows Seulgi can't see her from the couch and she's already more than half-way through closing her bedroom door.

 

She's lent the older girl a blanket and a pillow – and a place to _stay;_ there's nothing more for her to give. Besides, she's already grown out of sleeping with the lights on. She wouldn't have something as childish as a nightlight in her home.

 

“No,” Joy just can't wait to go to bed, “Now sleep.”

 

She doesn't wait for Seulgi to protest – if there would be any at all, the door shutting to a click behind her.

 

Snuggling under the covers, Joy hopes she could sleep the tension in her muscles away. This'll be the first – _and last,_ time that Seulgi will ever stay. Her brain feels like it'll collapse from overworking so much. The same for her annoying heart.

 

But even when she keeps her eyes shut to quell the rampage in her chest, her ears are still ringing with the reminder that Seulgi is out there: alone, in the dark, and possibly too terrified, to fall asleep.

 

But what kind of adult is still scared of the dark?!

 

Joy's squishing her pillow against her ears (maybe it'll help silence the stupid concerns in her head), flipping over to bury her face into the softness of fluff she doesn’t want to leave behind.

 

Maybe counting sheep will do the trick.

 

One,

 

Two,

 

Three.

 

...She was supposed to get Seulgi laughing to sleep.

 

_Damn it._

 

Without another stupid thought to convince her to move, Joy is wrenching the covers off her, grumbling curses as she motions to stand, twisting the knob open and entering back into the living room.

 

Joy flicks the lights on, a string of complaints ready to leave her tongue when her mouth stays shut and the frustration curled along her jaw loosens to gape.

 

Seulgi's curled up into a ball on the sofa, and even though she's wrapped tight under the protection of her green blanket, she's singing to a song Joy doesn't recognize, as if to lull herself to sleep.

 

_“If you just realize...”_

 

Joy pretends she doesn't feel the pinch in her stomach, memorizing the way Seulgi's eyes have yet to open. They’re sealed shut, like she's afraid.

 

_Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes with her stupid bun hair and her stupid bear face._

 

Joy wonders if she'll ever be _not_ weak to Seulgi's presence.

 

“I forgot that I promised you something,”

 

She's watching the way Seulgi's eyes snap open, her entire body jolting up from the couch. Joy spots how the blanket partially slides over Seulgi's shoulder at the motion, hanging off her elbow.

 

“Joy…?”

 

“Who else?” She's scoffing, though she catches how Seulgi's gaze remains steady on her.

 

“Why are you still up?”

 

“Because I'm supposed to make you laugh to sleep, remember?” Joy snorts at Seulgi's widening eyes, “I promised.”

 

She didn't. Not really.

 

But it must've been, in a way, when her heart wouldn't stop pounding at her to get up and walk back to Seulgi because it never happened.

 

“Oh, you don't have to! Really.”

 

Seulgi's smile only makes her chest throb more – which is ridiculous. She's here so she could get Seulgi to sleep and make the odd guilt in her blood to stop pressuring her limbs; not have her heart run harder than it already is.

 

Joy scowls. “Just move over.”

 

Seulgi's obedient despite her command, and as much as Joy tries to ignore the genuine delight swirling in Seulgi's eyes, as if she's happy for not being alone, Joy can't stop staring.

 

“Is there something on my face?”

 

Seulgi's patting hands on her cheeks, before her fingers are tracing over her lips, as if redefining pink plump flesh.

 

Joy grips her wrist. Seulgi has absolutely no idea what she's doing to her – she's not supposed to be tracing her mouth when she's _watching._

 

“Yes. Your face. Now stop that.”

 

She's snappy and annoyed and tired – and her heart just won't shut up. It's loud and barbaric and even a bit painful; her chest is aching and Joy just wants to close her eyes and rest. She never should've let Seulgi stay.

 

“Joy?” She's jerking up at the touch on her arm, the warmth tingling into her skin. “Thanks, but you really don't have to. I'll see you in the morning, okay?”

 

Joy huffs.

 

“You don't get it. It's not okay. I _have_ to do this—” she's swallowing hard, ease the sandpaper clogging her throat. “How else am I supposed to sleep if my head won't stop thinking about you being scared in the dark and I didn't do anything about it?”

 

Seulgi's gaping at her and as much as Joy wants to slam that mouth shut and get her to stop staring, Joy's too busy trying not to let slip more flurries of words that might carry too much.

 

She's settling next to Seulgi on the couch, rubbing her palms against her knees and avoiding the older girl's gaze just so her tongue won't go running again.

 

“So,” Joy nudges Seulgi's leg, relieved that it gets her to stop staring. “What the hell do you find funny? I'll humor you with some improv.”

 

She's grateful that Seulgi doesn't comment on anything, especially when her heart has already peeked out for Seulgi to see.

 

“...Bears.”

 

Joy blinks, watching the way Seulgi is scratching her cheek, looking sheepish.

 

She finds herself laughing after, shaking her head and bumping Seulgi again, feeling a smile curl along her lips.

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

When Seulgi only shrugs, a shy grin plastering her face, Joy starts to work her magic; a silly string of jokes she manages to remember out of the entire mold of lame humor that Yeri made her sit through the first night she moved in with her.

 

As she hears Seulgi's laughter, Joy takes note of how much her heart has gone silent just so it could listen.

 

-

 

Irene doesn't expect a lot of things in life.

 

She doesn't expect to fall in love with someone several years younger, with a cruel habit of drinking caffeine – something she's learned to tolerate (but only because Yerim would come after; that sweet cherry red lipstick). But when it happens, Irene isn't prepared, and neither were her taste buds.

 

She's learned love through scents of the dreaded coffee, to the aisles of lipstick products she'd fall victim to as the younger girl's canvas.

 

Irene doesn't expect their love to not last either, swept away in clacking steps towards a door and a back that only grew smaller before the world shuts to a close, the lock clicking after her.

 

She was sure that was it; that all the love she could give had left with Yerim, every little ounce swept up along with her heart. So Irene had tried to look for her again, tried to taste her in every coffee she'd drink, in every lipstick she made Irene wear.

 

But when she realized that Yerim was taking each second of time that ticked by, occupied her thoughts, her dreams, the gears in her limbs – Irene knew she needed it to end. Smoking helped, if only for a moment.

 

Reports kept her occupied; it helped shift phantom hands that trailed along her skin in every dream for stressed limbs and eye bags instead. Sleep only ever led to movie reels of Yerim, but none of them could ever compare to a reality she no longer had.

 

So Irene preferred to work, go to school, visit Sooyoung once in a while for a break in between, before going through them all over again.

 

And then she met Seungwan.

 

“Good morning,”

 

Irene blinks, thoughts dissipating behind her eyes, finally realizing that she had been staring at Seungwan the entire time.

 

She must've turned in her sleep, because now she's lying on her back, but she's facing timid eyes and a nervous smile and Irene's suddenly feeling her heart race again.

 

Seungwan's taking all the air from her lungs.

 

“...Good morning,”

 

There's a low thrum in Irene's voice, rasp and breathy. It's difficult to fill her chest back with oxygen when Seungwan's still looking at her with a tiny smile on her lips and how the locks of auburn hair drape over her face and—

 

Irene curls her fingers into fists, keeping them rigid beside her so that she won't be reaching out to brush them away.

 

Irene spots streaks of sunlight breaking through between the blinds of Seungwan's windowsill, painting lines over the arches of Seungwan's brows to the slope of her nose.

 

As soon as her gaze lowers to watch how the sun polishes the sculpted contours of Seungwan's lips, Irene has to look away, her heart drumming louder in her ears.

 

_(“Hyun...”)_

 

She needs to leave. She might do something again—

 

“Are you needed somewhere right now?” Irene's barely sitting up when Seungwan's trapping her wrist, “...Are you going to avoid me again?”

 

Seungwan’s grip is meek, like a loose knot waiting to come untied. Irene's gritting her teeth, hesitation playing with her limbs; Seungwan's pleading through her eyes and she has always been weak under Seungwan's gaze.

 

“…Yes,” Irene's glancing down at their skins latched together, “You’re with Seulgi.”

 

Seungwan’s fingers are sliding from Irene’s wrist to settle on her knuckles, brushing heat into Irene’s bones. She watches Seungwan shake her head.

 

“I was,”

 

Irene’s eyes flicks back up to meet Seungwan’s, scrutinizing how her smile paints sadness along her lips, her cheek pressing into her blue pillow.

 

Seungwan’s drawing invisible circles on her hand.

 

“She broke up with me.”

 

Irene's not sure if she could ask, her throat swelling with curiosity. Seulgi looked too much in love with Seungwan to let her go. She would know – she's seen it.

 

Seungwan's bowing her head.

 

“Remember how I told you my name? That people don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead?”

 

Irene nods, keeping mute, furrowing her brows at the wry laughter that leaves Seungwan’s throat. She doesn’t move away when Seungwan shifts closer to her, lying back down when she feels Seungwan tug her sleeve.

 

Seungwan’s curling against her arm, her fingers moving to fill the spaces between Irene’s, their hands tying together. Irene tries not to hold her breath when Seungwan mumbles against her shoulder, her pounding heart attempting to drown out the words in her ears.

 

It doesn’t help when she could feel Seungwan’s lips paint words into her sweater.

 

“…I’m not ‘Wendy’.”

 

Only question marks color her mind, confusion outlining each of them. Irene watches the way Seungwan purses her lips, like she’s fumbling for the right explanation.

 

She waits for Seungwan to speak again, unsure of whether she should curl their hands tighter together or not. Irene lets them lay limp.

 

When Seungwan doesn’t say anything else, Irene asks a question that continues to bounce in her head.

 

“Do you want to be?”

 

Seungwan's looking at her like she's never considered it; surprise colors her eyes.

 

“...Shouldn't I?”

 

Silence filters through like a smoke of fog, wrapping them in. Irene has no answer to that.

 

Seungwan's bowing her head, her fringe a curtain against Irene's searching eyes.

 

“But what if I like myself like this?” She's reaching out, her palm resting against Irene's chest. “All these feelings I have – the ones I've learned on my own...” Irene could feel her finger begin to tap numbers against her collarbone. “What if I'm happy the way I am now? Would that be wrong?”

 

Irene's never considered Seungwan to be struggling through some sort of identity crisis; all she's ever known about were the noises Seungwan hates hearing in her head.

 

Were 'Wendy' and 'Seungwan' two completely different people? Were they not just two different names to go by?

 

“...I'm being weird, aren't I?”

 

Irene's blinking her confusion off, realizing how Seungwan's still tapping noises away, her finger a gentle reminder against her skin.

 

She watches how Seungwan's hair drapes over her cheek, hiding away eyes that have gotten used to fear being its only color. Irene wants to replace it – have it disappear forever.

 

“No,” Irene’s curling auburn strands behind Seungwan's ear; makes sure her eyes don't hide anymore. “You're being honest.”

 

She sees fear gradually wash away over Seungwan, how it doesn’t decorate the skin between her brows in crinkles or the downward curl along the corners of her mouth.

 

“...Thank you,” relief leaves Seungwan's lips, like the chains have come undone around her throat, slipping away from a knot too tight.

 

“What for?”

 

Irene watches her fidget, how Seungwan's fingers clutch at her sweater.

 

There's this glowing smile on Seungwan's lips. It's ethereal, tugging at Irene's chest, pulling her in like a fire against the cold. She wants to feel the heat, to take Seungwan in and taste that happiness written along her mouth—

 

“...For choosing to call me Seungwan.”

 

— so Irene does.

 

She catches that soft smile on Seungwan's lips, attempt to engrave it onto her own mouth in hopes that it'll make its mark in her heart – and to have it stay there.

 

Seungwan's gasp spills against her, and it makes Irene chuckle, capturing her surprise and memorizing the way Seungwan's gripping tighter onto her sweater.

 

Irene is breathless at the touch of her name on Seungwan's lips.

 

“...Joohyun?”

 

She tastes like raspberry.

 

Irene wants to kiss her again.

 

But before she could lean in, seal those lips again, Yerim invades her mind’s eye, how she’s still in her apartment, in her room, just several meters away behind beige walls she's helped Seungwan paint. Irene didn't think it could ever happen again - to have Yerim in her home.

 

But things have changed.

 

Temptation of tasting Seungwan again leaves her like burnt paper crumbling in her hands; she feels like she's betrayed Yerim, somehow. And Seulgi.

 

“Come on, let's go make breakfast.”

 

Irene doesn't linger any longer in the space she's so used to occupying every night, when she never had to worry about wanting to take Seungwan's lips, feet padding across the floor before Seungwan could probe for more.

 

-

 

It was inevitable that she would run out of jokes that had to do with bears.

 

After all had been said and the exhaustion crept in over her calm heart, Joy had been adamant when she told Seulgi to sleep on the bed instead.

 

Sometime during their short session of shared giggles over poor humor, Joy thought it was fine to have Seulgi sleep where it was most comfortable.

 

Seulgi had long argued with her that it was fine though – that she could sleep on the couch because she was the guest, which Joy snorted at, because that was precisely the point to lend the bed.

 

Joy knew Seulgi was stubborn – but not _that_ stubborn, that in the end, none of them slept on the bed, which was dumb, now that she thought about it. They had tired themselves out from arguing over who should sleep on the couch that they both refused to leave it.

 

So it was no surprise the next morning that Joy had woken up with a stiff neck and an aching back.

 

Groaning under a strike of sunlight blaring against her eyes, Joy lifts a hand to shield herself, getting up slowly from the sofa.

 

Stretching had never felt this good in the morning, though Joy wouldn't dare to have a repeat of it. She should've just let Seulgi crash on the couch because the bed is _so_ much more comfortable. Maybe next time when Seulgi pulls off another one of these stupid visits.

 

...Which she should decline in the first place.

 

Joy groans again when her neck cracks a kink out of her bones, sighing at the loose motion of her head. _Much_ better.

 

She begins stretching her arms, straightening out her back, when her eyes shift to see Seulgi hunched over on the couch. They had both occupied the seat so it was no wonder that Seulgi was still sitting up, her head lolled forward, hair curtaining her face.

 

She's going to wake up with a horrible pain in her back, no doubt.

 

Joy scoffs, turning away. Seulgi deserves it anyway, barging into her apartment in the middle of the night – and without a proper invite. Speaking of which, she'll have to scold Joohyun about it later.

 

But her feet carries her to the other end of the sofa, hands grasping the fallen blanket and pillow before shuffling back towards Seulgi, like her body has all the controls.

 

Joy feels like she's watching behind a screen, her voice gone from her lips, as she shifts Seulgi's body, letting her sprawl out carefully along the length of the couch.

 

She wants to yell at herself for her overbearing kindness, but her limbs won't listen to her, hands perching under Seulgi's head so she could lift it, sliding a pillow underneath. It's gagging almost, when she finds herself covering Seulgi with the blanket, even more so when she sees the way Seulgi responds by snuggling deeper into them.

 

Joy feels her heart stutter at the instinctive smile that colors Seulgi's lips.

 

Damn it.

 

_Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes._

 

Grumbling, Joy stands to make breakfast – for _herself_. She has spoiled Seulgi enough already; time to reward herself for everything she's been through – and still going through, Joy thinks, glancing back at a slumbering Seulgi.

 

She scoffs at the picture.

 

Maybe making extra for one more person won't be so bad. It'll be like preparing breakfast for Yeri.

 

Joy doesn't expect to hear Seulgi’s voice already, her steps halting at the sound.

 

“...Good morning to you too, Joy.”

 

Joy's brain malfunctions, as if short-circuiting. Was Seulgi awake the entire time? Did she witness the entire thing?

 

She's hesitant when she turns, finding Seulgi grinning at her, still looking sleepy but even more so beautiful than she already was.

 

How was that even possible?

 

Seulgi's giggling, attempting to muffle it behind the blasted blanket Joy had given her, and Joy swears her heart would give out at any moment.

 

“You look like a fish, with your mouth like that.” Seulgi says, a smile curling her lips.

 

Joy swallows, nerves pooling over her tongue like saliva. Seulgi's dangerous to her health: mentally, physically, and emotionally.

 

_Crap._

 

If she had known Seulgi would take her breath away even in the morning with bed hair and a sloppy smile with crinkled clothes she had lent the older woman, Joy would've been more strict about keeping her out of her home.

 

Joy frowns. “You should still be sleeping.”

 

Seulgi's laughter is both medicine and poison in her ears.

 

“But I felt you move me,” she’s grinning at her, looking a little smug. “And I was too surprised that you were being nice to me, so I couldn't just go back to sleep.”

 

Joy only grumbles, turning away, going for the cabinets because screw it, she's not going to bother wasting anymore brain cells thinking about Seulgi when she's hungry and breakfast needs to happen.

 

Seulgi's voice filters into her ears again.

 

“You're weird, you know.”

 

Joy snorts. “You only figured that out _now?_ ”

 

“But cute, too.”

 

Joy pretends she doesn't feel the flush of emotion color her cheeks. She clicks her tongue.

 

“Gee, that's disappointing. I was going more for badass and intimidating.”

 

Seulgi's giggles clutch at Joy's heart, a vice grip that takes her breath away. How cruel.

 

“You are,” Joy hears shuffling, fear latching her throat at the thought of Seulgi moving closer. “It's just nice to know you're not only those, too.”

 

Joy has no idea where Seulgi is going with this. Is she making conversation?

 

“Whatever.”

 

She’s sifting through her cabinets and cupboards, fixated on distracting herself with making food. An empty stomach won't help her think properly, and Joy’s all too aware that she needs to be making proper choices _only_.

 

“Let me help,”

 

Traces of orange fill up her lungs, an elbow bumping against hers, the heat seeping through her sweater. Joy doesn't have to turn to know that Seulgi's right next to her, space be damned.

 

Joy scoffs, but she feels a smile painting her lips at the sight of Seulgi's hair in disarray; there are strands standing up and sideways.

 

“How about you clean yourself up, first?”

 

“But I didn't bring a toothbrush...”

 

Joy rolls her eyes, walking towards the fridge and yanking out a carton of eggs.

 

“Just rinse your mouth with water,” she goes back to the countertop, “I'll give you gum to chew on, after.”

 

Seulgi's nodding. The grin on her face is hard to miss.

 

“Okay,” Joy feels Seulgi squeeze her arm, “You're spoiling me, you know.”

 

Oh she knows. She _also_ knows she's being teased just as much as she's being thanked.

 

Joy scowls, nudging Seulgi's hold off. Her arm is tingling from the heat and it's only a matter of time before it starts to burn.

 

“Fix your hair, too. It looks like a bird's nest.”

 

Seulgi's laughing, her hands attempting to press down on her scalp. Joy watches how she misses a few strands, rolling her eyes at the mess.

 

She reaches out to pat some down, sneering when Seulgi smiles at her like she's gotten her way.

 

“…How did you end up liking me?”

 

Joy freezes as soon as the question loops into her ears, racking her skull, her hand going rigid on Seulgi's head.

 

She can't say it's been a while – that it's been a little over two years, before she even met Joohyun. To think her silly crush spans longer than her friendship with Joohyun – how absurd.

 

“I've been trying to figure that out myself.”

 

Maybe it's because of her stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid bear face with her stupid bun hair.

 

Seulgi's reaching up, grasping her hand, the warmth spreading into Joy's bones that her fingers can't help but twitch at her touch. But she doesn't pull away, letting Seulgi bring it down, cradle it between her hands.

 

“When you said 'can I be your tomorrow, just for today'...” Joy’s pulse skyrockets, blood ripping through her ears. “...what did you mean by that?”

 

_Damn it._

 

Those were words Joy still regrets saying, a moment of a loose tongue and a mind that preferred to be stuck in the illusion of being in a date with Seulgi.

 

Joy snorts, wrenching her hand free from Seulgi's grip, twisting away to crack eggs onto the pan. She’s already come out with the truth. There’s no point in holding back.

 

“The obvious. I'm attracted to you. A lot – maybe even too much. So I end up saying things I don't mean and doing things I'd rather not do, like letting you into my apartment.” Joy's gaze whizzes to meet Seulgi's, punctuating each word with a cracked egg against the pan. “It's because I like you that much. That's all there is to it.”

 

Joy turns away to grab her spatula, letting the clatter of her drawers and spoons and forks dissuade the quiet.

 

“Is that why you've been running away from me? Because you like me?”

 

Joy rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue.

 

“Obviously.”

 

Seulgi's silence is nerve racking. Joy would appreciate her mute lips more if it had nothing to do with her heart being so open like this, her confession still crackling in the air like sparked dynamite.

 

“Thank you,” Seulgi’s bumping Joy's elbow with her own.

 

The action surprises her, pausing to glance back at the shorter woman, confusion lining the frown on her lips.

 

“For what?”

 

Seulgi's hands are behind her back, her body swaying on the balls of her feet, rocking herself side-to-side. She's not meeting her gaze.

 

“For letting me stay and for taking care of me,”

 

Joy crinkles her nose, whirling away to flip the scrambled eggs still being fried.

 

“You know it's only because I'm being biased, right? You _are_ the person I like, after all.”

 

When she glances back at her, Seulgi has this smile: small, quiet, and understanding.

 

“Thank you for liking me, too.”

 

Joy scoffs, waving a hand.

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

It goes silent again. Seulgi remains beside her, not invasive, but not quite present, either. Like she's observing her from lenses too far to be touched. Is something bothering her?

 

Seulgi's scuffling her feet, kicking at air as she speaks.

 

“…Would it help you? If I don't bother you anymore?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Hm. Maybe she should crack some more eggs. Seulgi's quite the eater, like herself. Should she throw in tomatoes and onions, too?

 

“...You won't have to run as long as I'm not around, right?”

 

Joy stops, a frown drawing deeper lines along the corners of her mouth.

 

What the hell is she talking about?

 

“I won't call you, or text you, and if we happen to bump into each other at the mall or on the streets, I'll make sure to leave right away, okay?”

 

Seulgi's hands are animated; so is her rambling mouth and darting eyes. She's fidgeting from head to toe and Joy can't fathom why she's bothering to go on about things she obviously doesn't mean.

 

Seulgi sounds a lot like herself, too.

 

Joy scowls, halting Seulgi's silly excuses, raking a hand through her hair.

 

“Uh, no. That's not okay.”

 

There's a cutting edge to her voice, how the words come out scathing past her lips, bruising her throat.

 

Seulgi shifts back as if flinching, a speck of a grimace tainting her face. Joy snorts at her expression.

 

They're both hopeless.

 

“You don't get to do that,” Joy's scrunching her nose, “you don't get to just waltz in and shove my feelings right up my face just so you could leave me behind with them still all over the place.”

 

Seulgi's mouth begins to curve, forming syllables that leave her tongue and blazes into Joy's ears like drops of charcoal.

 

“But—”

 

Her hand lifts as fast as Seulgi attempts to say more, sealing the older woman's words with a flick of her wrist, a palm to her face.

 

“So like I said: no, that's not okay.” Joy's legs can't stay still, shifting her weight. “I want you to call me and text me and whenever we bump into each other, to stick around for more than a simple 'Hi' or 'Goodbye'.”

 

God, she's breaking everything she stands for.

 

It's ridiculous and unlike her and Joy has sworn that she's better than this – better than the idiots who keep going back and drowning in the obvious trap that things will always be one-sided, that she can dodge the blatant disregard for her own well-being but—

 

Seulgi's stunned to a silence, evident by her wide eyes and open mouth, hanging as if the latch has broken.

 

“Joy...?”

 

— but there's this tiny hope flickering in her head that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for more.

 

She's no different than any other idiot.

 

Joy snorts at the look, crossing her arms, holding herself so that maybe she could keep from shaking more than she already is. God, she's fidgeting so much. How annoying.

 

“Don't overthink it. You'll get wrinkles.”

 

“Joy...”

 

“But you really need to rinse your mouth so I can give you gum. Your breath stinks. Don't forget to fix your bird's nest, too.” Joy’s pushing Seulgi towards the bathroom.

 

But Seulgi doesn't look like she's listening. There seems to be words still stuck behind her mouth, trembling to come out. Joy spots it as easily as the nerves she sees still holding Seulgi's fingers captive, the jitters too obvious to ignore.

 

She calls her out on it.

 

“What?” Joy barely holds back a snarl when her feelings are still pulling her in, as if to drown. She has already said too much. “What's with that look?”

 

Seulgi's voice comes out shaky. Breathless, even.

 

“...I wish I was in love with you.”

 

It's not what Joy expects. Of course not. The mere thought of love and Seulgi and her, all in one sentence is a sort of silly notion Joy couldn't find herself to entertain. Because it's not true – and it won't be.

 

But _maybe—_

 

Joy blinks to stave off the surprise her limbs have surrendered to, inhaling sharper than she intends to, her chest filling up with false indifference and a whole lot of disappointment at the truth.

 

She portrays the sense of calm she never leaves without, lips moving as quickly as her mind processes the words.

 

“But you're not.”

 

Joy eyes Seulgi's expression, the way her lips have drawn a tight line. She watches her nod slowly, as if the action would help sink the fact into her brain better.

 

“Yeah...” Seulgi's scratching her elbow, shuffling her feet. “...Yeah, I'm not.”

 

Joy waves off the air that's quickly growing tense, her throat tightening with each second that passes by and it's only silence that caves in.

 

“You wouldn't want to be, anyway. Because if you were, I'd probably be all over you.” She's not sure why she's trying to make Seulgi feel better about hurting her – about not returning the feelings that continues to haunt her, “And you'd get sick of me fast.” Joy breaks out a laugh, “So I guess you lucked out.”

 

Seulgi has this smile that looks equally amused and broken, as if she's unsure of what to feel and Joy dares not to think too much on it – because there's nothing to see.

 

“...Yeah,”

 

Joy pretends not to hear how Seulgi seems to be trying to convince herself that it's true.

 

Clearing her throat, Joy nudges Seulgi towards the direction of her bathroom.

 

“Now go rinse your mouth. I don't want to be smelling your bad breath any longer than necessary.”

 

When Seulgi laughs, genuine and loud and void of any trembling doubt that had enveloped her earlier, Joy manages to smile, too.

 

She'll just have to deal with Seulgi's presence for a little longer.

 

She can do this.

 

“Hey, Joy?”

 

“What is it _now?_ ”

 

“For the record,” Seulgi's smiling, but it's not as sad as the ones before. “I don't think I'd ever get sick of someone who loves me.”

 

-

 

Like every morning, Yeri wakes up from dreaming about Joohyun.

 

It's routine of her to lay in bed a little longer, let the slumber fog of Joohyun's fingers caress her skin, crawl memory touches along her mind, until they all disappear.

 

Tender lavender and soft vanilla would follow after, leaving her senses, fading from her tongue, like Joohyun was never there. And usually that was the case; Joohyun would no longer welcome her with a good morning kiss; Yeri had grown accustomed to that.

 

But Yeri still smells vanilla and lavender even after Joohyun's dream touches have gone, her body still wrapped up in between the sheets that are too purple to be her own.

 

Yeri doesn't want to leave.

 

It's warm, comforting, protective; a constant she's missed having in a world where change is synonymous to living.

 

She snuggles her nose deeper into the soft material of a purple pillow, inhaling a scent she's associated with happiness; a feeling she's never really had anymore.

 

The clock on the nightstand is bright beside her – 7:48 AM.

 

It's still early; she could escape and not have to deal with the consequences of seeing Joohyun and Wendy be comfortable together.

 

She should leave.

 

Making up her mind, hoping this spontaneous energy of just getting the hell out lasts long enough for her to actually leave, Yeri slithers out of the clothes Wendy had lent her. To think she had worn these often before – Yeri didn't think it was possible to wear them again.

 

Hastily folding them up, fixing the creases on the bed and reordering the pillows and blankets, Yeri casts one last glance around the room. She lets the images of Joohyun's study table and stacks of notebooks sink into her mind.

 

She remembers the times she's watched Joohyun just study; how her brows would crinkle, her lips curved into a frown. It was one of the images she'd often have of Joohyun whenever she'd dream; a strong contender against whispers of sweet kisses and hot skin on skin that would always make her wake up with a want for _more._

 

Yeri turns away, squeezing the doorknob tight and hoping this would be the last time she'll have to leave Joohyun behind. Again.

 

Hearing the door creak open, Yeri inches forward, spotting the way the windows filter streams of sunlight in lines across the floor. They puddle along the couch and television, lines of brightness streaking in the dark; a clear sign that it was still very much early in the morning.

 

Yeri sees how the door is still closed to Wendy's room, the couch empty. Joohyun really listened to her (even if it was an empty threat).

 

But in the back of her mind, Yeri had hoped Joohyun was still stubborn enough not to.

 

She pretends not to feel jealousy bubble in the pit of her stomach, twisting away to head towards the door, slipping her boots on, grabbing her bag of clothes she had bought last night.

 

Yeri doesn't realize she's holding her breath until she's turning the lock, wrenching the door open, the hallway a bland comparison to the comfy warmth of their apartment.

 

Her head is telling her to move – to leave everything behind, just like before. It's easy. Then close the door so she could hear it lock Joohyun in again along with every mistake she's made.

 

So why can't she do it?

 

Yeri's gritting her teeth, clenching her fists, feeling the way her skin goes white against the doorknob; her legs won't move.

 

She's already screaming in her head to get out – to run, to leave, and never come back. It should be _easy._

 

Maybe her feet doesn't want to move just yet because Wendy had asked her to stay for breakfast. Maybe her body had been wired to make exceptions for food – to feel guilty for a welcoming host.

 

She should stay to show her appreciation; to show that she was grateful to Wendy for everything.

 

Yet Yeri feels it's much more than that – her excuses were never all that convincing.

 

Yeri settles her bag down, pushing the door to a close, placing the lock back in. Her boots slide off easier than ever, stepping backwards as if to make distance between the exit and herself.

 

She should be leaving. It would be the right thing to do.

 

But her feet takes her back into a room she's learned to love as much as she loves Joohyun herself, shutting the door behind her.

 

Yeri suddenly finds herself crawling under the blankets, pulling the clothes she had borrowed into her arms, hugging them close. It's automatic to snuggle deeper beneath the covers, curling her legs so she'd be entangled in vanilla and lavender all over again.

 

Her mind is rampant with logic – to escape unnoticed while she still has a chance, but her heart finds calm under the warmth; her nose burrowing deeper into the pillow.

 

She can't bring herself to leave Joohyun again.

 

Maybe making them kick her out will do the trick. But for now, in the comfort of a home Joohyun shares with someone else who will never be her, Yeri lets herself drown in everything Joohyun – while she still can.

 

But it doesn't last long, of course, because Yeri hears a door screech open and footsteps begin to pace the apartment's wooden floors.

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, huddling deeper into the safety of Joohyun's blanket, and hopes she could fake sleep for a little longer. She doesn't want to face the world just yet; she loves it here.

 

Her breath pauses in her throat when another door creaks open, too close to not be the entrance to Joohyun's room, and prays it's not obvious that she doesn't want to leave.

 

The steps that patter the floor are soft and careful. Yeri kind of hopes it'd be Wendy because she'd be the easier one to lie to, but when the bed dips beside her and a hand is brushing her hair from her face, Yeri's heart both soars and falls.

 

Vanilla and lavender could never be as potent as when they're worn on _her._

 

Of course it'd be Joohyun.

 

Her world always manages to find her. Yeri still remembers the times she had accidentally left Joohyun in the lipstick aisle because she wanted to find some eye shadow for her.

 

_“Don't you think you're getting a little too excited about this?”_

_Yeri's ears perk up at Joohyun's voice behind her, feeling the older woman settle her chin on her shoulder. Yeri tries not to shiver from Joohyun's lips caressing her ear, her breath tickling the little hairs on Yeri's skin to a stand._

_It doesn't help when Joohyun's arms circle under her elbows, wrapping themselves around Yeri's waist; finding Joohyun's hands interlocked comfortably on her tummy._

_“Don't you think you're getting a little too clingy like this, unnie?” Yeri quips, her question not much of a complaint when she lets her fingers rest on Joohyun's, leaning back into her warmth._

_Joohyun's nuzzling her neck, feeling her smile scar her skin, tickling her. It makes Yeri giggle at the touch._

_“Because you left me behind. What if I get lost again?”_

_Her whining has Yeri laughing, reaching up with her free hand to pat Joohyun's cheek. Affection builds up in her chest that Yeri can't help but coo. Joohyun's just so cute._

_“Unnie, the lipstick aisle is literally a few steps away.” Yeri nods her head towards its direction, right beside all the eye shadow. “You can't get lost. Besides, aren't you the one who's older than me? You don't need my supervision.”_

_Joohyun's pouting into her skin, another whine leaving her lips, tickling Yeri again. She shivers this time, when Joohyun's syllables mark words on her neck._

_“You can't just drag me out to buy makeup for me and then leave me to fend for myself...”_

_Yeri's sighing, but the smile on her lips is wide and happy; she loves Joohyun like this – so fond of physical contact._

_She ignores the eyes that look their way, mutely judging through narrowed brows and blatant frowns. Yeri can't bring herself to care about what they think when she's with Joohyun; the older woman's indifference to society's blueprint scrutiny is empowering. Joohyun gives her a strength Yeri didn't think could ever exist in her._

_“Okay okay,” Yeri’s patting the woman's head. “Geez, you're such a kid.”_

_Joohyun laughs then, the irony not lost on them at all. Yeri remembers how they waddled around the rest of the shop, too happy to be stuck together to even consider letting each other go._

They went to the amusement park afterwards too, squealing during all the rides and screaming in haunted houses – Yeri didn't think they would ever end.

 

But here they are.

 

“You always _did_ like running your hand through my hair, unnie.”

 

Yeri doesn't want to start crying at all the memories Joohyun has begun to stir inside of her; the familiarity of Joohyun's touch is making her ache more than she already is.

 

Joohyun's hand doesn't stop though, continuing to comb through her scalp even after Yeri has called her out on it, almost as if it were wired into her bones. Yeri would be surprised if it were true; it's been a year and... _no,_ she doesn't want to be specific even in her own head.

 

“I thought you would have left already,” Joohyun says, sounding as lost as Yeri feels.

 

Lying was Yeri's favorite pill to swallow.

 

It would be smooth and small, seamlessly sliding through her throat. Her stomach had grown accustomed to the knot that would build up from it, so it was never a surprise to have more pile past her lips and curl into someone else's ears.

 

But all that comes out is more of the truth Yeri thought to be long gone from her mouth. Maybe she has finally run out of lies to tell.

 

“I thought so, too.”

 

If only her feet wasn't so frozen the moment she opened the door.

 

“Why didn't you?”

 

Yeri's eyes open slowly, blinking up at Joohyun who looks as amazing as always; maybe she should've kept them shut because her breath is now lodged in her throat.

 

She drops her gaze to stare at a pile of broken picture frames in a small trash bin. It looks odd, considering Joohyun already has a trash bin filled with crumpled papers near her study desk.

 

“I realized I didn't want to leave.” Yeri mutters against the clothes she had borrowed, “I left you before, so it's not like I'm inexperienced. I wonder where my courage went.”

 

Yeri wonders if those broken picture frames had carried images of them when they were together. Joohyun had a knack for breaking things when her emotions got the better of her, after all.

 

“Then again, I always loved sleeping in, so maybe I'm just lazy today.” Yeri says.

 

Joohyun's sighing, but Yeri catches a small smile curving her lips from the corner of her eyes.

 

“Well, you always did say you liked staying in bed because it’d smell nice.”

 

Yeri hums, drawing tiny circles on the back of the sweater she was lent to wear.

 

“Only because it’d smell of you.”

 

Joohyun's chuckles are a welcoming relief, like she already knows. Yeri shuts her eyes when Joohyun swipes off a loose strand of hair from her face.

 

“It's not hard to find vanilla and lavender, Yerim.” Joohyun pauses, “And especially not fabric softener.”

 

Yeri giggles, opening her eyes to be greeted by Joohyun's smile. To think she's still weak under her gaze.

 

She goes back to avoiding her scrutiny, finding Joohyun's bin of broken picture frames far more interesting to look at. Or so she tells herself.

 

“So you didn't mean any of it?”

 

Yeri doesn't have to think twice to know what Joohyun's referring to. It's all in her voice, how gentle it attempts to usher her into spilling her heart, how conviction lines each syllable as sturdy as Joohyun's always been when it comes to seeking the truth.

 

_(“I was just messing with you. I didn’t mean any of it, so don’t overthink it.”)_

 

“What would you do if I did?

 

Silence greets her, a company Yeri is no stranger to. She has spent more time with the quiet than being with Joohyun.

 

Yeri hates it.

 

“Don't worry so much, unnie.” She's attempting to tease her, but it comes out sounding as helpless as she feels. “It was just a question.”

 

Joohyun has this look on her face, a frown seemingly permanent on her lips, the skin between her brows crinkled – Yeri can feel how she's searching her. Her gaze is deep enough to make her lungs collapse if she stares any longer.

 

But it's what Joohyun says after that breaks her lungs apart.

 

“...Aren't you tired of lying to me?”

 

It's almost funny. Joohyun sounds exhausted – of her, or something else, Yeri can't tell.

 

But Joohyun's still combing her hair, and Yeri can't ignore the patience running from each fingertip; drawing along her scalp, feeling it slide over the skin, creating tremors into her bloodstream.

 

Joohyun's still gentle with her and Yeri hates it.

 

“You weren't supposed to know,” Yeri pauses, “...That I still love you.” She doesn't know why she's choosing to be honest now, of all times. But it’s out. “I guess I wasn't as good at lying as I thought I'd be.”

 

Yeri doesn't know whether it's better to stop telling the truth or not.

 

Joohyun hums.

 

“No, you were pretty good.” She says, her pause making Yeri look back up at her. “After all, I believed you when you said you'd come back to me.”

 

_(“Where are you going?”_

_“I'll be right back. Just wait for me, okay?”_

_“Okay.”)_

 

Yeri is all too aware of that mistake she made; she still remembers how fear crept up her lungs, choking back on honesty to spill comfortable lies instead. Or maybe she was so selfish that she just wanted Joohyun's smile to be her goodbye – regardless of it having been out of blissful ignorance.

 

“Why did you leave me, Yerim?”

 

Ah. There it is. That question.

 

Yeri purses her lips, gaze straying from Joohyun's to settle on a button on the woman's collar; anything to get away from the lost and hurt she finds in her eyes.

 

“Was I not enough to make you stay?”

 

It makes the words come out like bile past Yeri’s mouth, scratching her throat, making water pool under her eyes.

 

“You were enough for me to leave.”

 

Joohyun’s fingers freeze to a still above her brow, like the gears in them have stopped working. Yeri almost winces at Joohyun’s touch fading from her skin, Joohyun’s silence becoming all that Yeri can hear.

 

It’s so, _so,_ loud.

 

“Because I loved you,” Yeri’s plowing on, afraid of the quiet. “Why did I avoid you? Because I loved you. Why did I pretend that I wasn't still in love with you? Because I loved you. And why didn't I leave like I was supposed to so I'd be halfway to Joy unnie's apartment by now? Because I still love you.”

 

Joohyun's brows are narrowing.

 

Yeri could already see her dagger tongue.

 

“So you left me behind because you loved me? You lied saying you'd come back because you loved me?” Flurries of questions spill like bullet rain, each drop a stinging pain Yeri's been fearful of hearing. “...And you're still not telling me why, because you love me?”

 

Yeri squeezes her eyes at the shrill desperation in Joohyun's voice; something she didn't think Joohyun would still have for her. It makes guilt fester faster when Joohyun’s fingers return in her hair, brushing strands like it’s all her hand knows how to do. Yeri bites her lip, shoving her fingers away – along with every desire she still has for Joohyun.

 

She wrenches the blanket off, dumps the clothes somewhere behind her, and stands because she can't bear to hear what Joohyun has to say.

 

“Yes,” Yeri’s moving fast, slithering past Joohyun. “Besides, I knew you’d be fine without me.”

 

_Run,_

 

“I wasn't,” Joohyun's trapping her wrist, yanking her back. “I couldn't help but look for you in cups of coffee I never learned to like.”

 

_Run,_

 

Yeri’s gritting her teeth, tugging; she won't fall back in her arms. Not now.

 

_Hurry and run,_

 

“But you stopped already, didn't you?” Yeri’s eyes snap back to meet Joohyun's, “You're not looking for me anymore.”

 

“So you weren't afraid of losing me?”

 

Something cracks in Yeri's chest, as if all the locks of lies she's latched on has broken open, her heart bleeding every bit of cherished secrets she's ever hidden spilling for Joohyun to see.

 

Yeri’s gritting her teeth so they don’t fall out completely, hoping that tears won't spill past her eyelids, too. She can't cry just yet – not when Joohyun can see her.

 

But Joohyun isn't letting her go, even when Yeri attempts to take her arm back. She grunts, but Joohyun doesn’t budge, and it makes Yeri's blood boil more; it’s rushing through her limbs, teeth clenching tight, fists squeezing into white.

 

“Just let me _go!_ ”

 

Yeri’s growing delirious, digging nails into the taller woman’s skin with her other hand, attempt to rip Joohyun’s hold off. It’s somewhat cathartic to see lines of red against white, Joohyun’s wince not going unnoticed.

 

Yeri shouldn’t care that she’s hurting Joohyun. She can’t care, she’s not _supposed_ to—

 

Joohyun’s grimacing, feeling the older woman’s skin peel under her fingertips, each line filling up with blood. Yeri’s chest is swelling with worry already dancing along the edges of her lips.

 

But all Joohyun has to do is let go. That way, she won’t be hurting her anymore, so why can’t Joohyun just—

 

Yeri can't hold it in anymore.

 

— just stop being _stubborn._

 

“Of course I was! I was _terrified!_ ” She shoves Joohyun, hard enough to finally make her let go. “But I loved you more than that – I loved you so much that I left so you can go anywhere! So you can—”

 

“What makes you think I'd want to go anywhere without you?” Joohyun’s question has Yeri's mouth clicking shut. “You know that I'd do anything for you—”

 

Yeri flares up, reacting on impulse, triggered at the thought of Joohyun still willing to offer her anything when it's no longer possible. She pretends not to see red drip along the back of Joohyun’s hand, spilling droplets against wooden floors.

 

“Don't say that!” Yeri’s fists are going white, throat on fire. “Don't you _dare_ say that!”

 

“But it’s tr—”

 

Yeri jabs a finger against the older woman's chest, pushing harder for every point she makes. All she’s learned to do besides how to run away is how to hurt someone.

 

To think she’s hurting Joohyun again – she’s really better off without her.

 

“Because I'd order you to kiss me,” Yeri pretends not to see Joohyun wince under each pressure, “I'd tell you to make love to me,” her vision is blurring, but Yeri ignores the hot tears that finally spill from her eyelids. “And then I'd want you to tell me that you're still in love with me too!”

 

“Yerim...”

 

Yeri spots how red Joohyun's skin has become, a splotch of pain on pale skin, but even when Yeri wants to apologize for hurting her – again and again and again, she's angrier that Joohyun is _letting_ her.

 

To think Joohyun's doing absolutely nothing to fight back – it’s _infuriating._

 

Yeri can't help but lash out even more; the emotions she's kept to herself have swallowed her whole, corrupted her body, and seized her mind.

 

She slams her fists against Joohyun's shoulders, forces her to back off – to leave her alone. But all it does is make Joohyun falter for a moment, before she's stepping back in again, as if she didn't just try to push the older woman away.

 

Yeri wants to rip everything apart: that wistful smile on Joohyun's face, that understanding colored in her eyes – it's _maddening._

 

“I know what you mean when you say you'd do anything for me,” Yeri's panting, noting the way Joohyun only continues to listen. “But that's not what I want.”

 

“Then what do you—”

 

Yeri’s tired of her questions.

 

She shoves Joohyun onto the bed, not waiting for the older woman to recover, hearing her grunt, ignoring how Joohyun attempts to sit up. Yeri rushes to trap her.

 

She pins Joohyun back down, cradling the woman's face with trembling fingers, already growing intoxicated by the touch of Joohyun breathing against her lips.

 

Yeri's tears haven't stopped falling, and even when Joohyun's attempting to catch them, feeling her thumbs wipe each streak away from her eyes, Yeri only gets angrier.

 

“I want you.” She attempts to growl, but it comes out as a whimper instead, her words butchered down to the only thing that matters. “...I want you.” Yeri sobs, crying for the way her lips plead words against Joohyun's silent mouth. “I still want _you,_ unnie...”

 

_(“I can't afford to want her more than I already do.”)_

 

Yeri would laugh at the thought of just how badly she had failed, but Joohyun's not pushing her away and it only makes her that much more frustrated.

 

Yeri thought she'd be okay after everything was said and done – she was _supposed_ to be okay.

 

But she’s not.

 

“...Why can't I be okay with just wanting you?”

 

God, she's such a hypocrite.

 

Yeri can't help but write her longing against Joohyun's mouth, missing the soft touch of flesh across her own lips, that signature vanilla filling her up.

 

Her words have come back to haunt her.

 

“I want to be your home again...” Yeri says, "...just like how you're still mine.”

 

She wants to erase the label Joohyun has given to Wendy. Maybe she should just kiss her even, and forget everything else. Pretend there’s no consequence, no reason, no doubt, no hesitation – nothing but the shrill urge to just _kiss_ her.

 

Yeri stops thinking.

 

“Does Wendy unnie know you consider her 'Home'?”

 

Joohyun’s brows are furrowing, confusion swirling her eyes, a frown drawing along her mouth.

 

“No, I—” she pauses, “How do you know that?”

 

Yeri ignores her, licking her own lips. No more second-guessing.

 

“So you two aren't dating yet, right?”

 

“No, but…”

 

“Good. I won't feel too guilty about this, then.”

 

Before Joohyun gets to protest, form words along her pursed mouth, Yeri hushes her, tasting sweet vanilla she still has imprinted in every dream.

 

Yeri's aware of how much wrong there is to this, but she has cared for so long about what she should and shouldn't do, that she's never been able to do what she wants.

 

Joohyun has said she'd do anything for her.

 

So Yeri dares her to try.

 

“Kiss me,”

 

Yeri pulls back, catches Joohyun's eyes widen at the command, her mouth falling to open.

 

“I told you, didn't I?” She taps Joohyun's nose, “Unless you didn’t mean it when you said you’d do anything for me.”

 

Joohyun's mouth shifts to a close, and Yeri thinks this is it; everything's over, but when she's leaning in, taking her lips, Yeri has to remind herself that Joohyun's kissing her only because she told her to.

 

Yeri urges her to keep going, hands slithering to cradle Joohyun's neck, fingers trailing over the lines of her collarbone. She gasps when Joohyun traps her bottom lip, breath hitching at the older woman's hands crawling around her hips, fingers gripping her close.

 

Yeri's almost convinced that Joohyun still loves her enough to touch her like this, but Joohyun carries a competitive spirit; she’s never been the type to settle for less, especially when it’s a promise she herself has made.

 

She scrawls emotions along Joohyun's lips in return, writing memory lane with every kiss.

 

Joohyun doesn't taste quite the same. There's still that sweet vanilla colored on her mouth, much like all the dreams Yeri sleeps to every night. But there's a hint of raspberry and Yeri is terrified of the possibility that it belongs to someone else.

 

Yeri doesn't want to think about it.

 

She bites back a snarl attempting to crawl up her throat. Yeri scrapes against soft vanilla, attempting to take it all for herself.

 

There's still a wish she wants to make, eyes fluttering open so she could see the damage she inflicts.

 

She wonders if Joohyun could possibly go through with it. How far would she go to prove her point?

 

“Make love to me.”

 

Joohyun stills, as if her words have frozen her cold. It probably did, all things considered.

 

She catches the hesitation coloring Joohyun's eyes, a flash of guilt that should be eating Yeri up too, but Yeri's already way past having a care for everyone else's expectations except her own that she can't stop.

 

Yeri needs to see how far Joohyun's willing to go – how far Joohyun's stubborn streak will carry them both.

 

But Joohyun's candor has never been just a passing decoration.

 

“Then I'd be lying to you.”

 

Yeri doesn't need to feel the pain that clings to her chest, the sharp conviction in Joohyun's voice puncturing enough to make holes in her lungs, air escaping her lips as if she had been physically hurt. She might as well have been.

 

There’s a knock on Joohyun’s bedroom door.

 

“Hey, um, breakfast is ready. I’ll be doing the laundry downstairs, okay?”

 

Wendy’s voice filters through, a muffled mess that eats away at Yeri’s ears, coloring her limbs green at Joohyun’s attention drifting off from her the second Wendy speaks.

 

Joohyun’s already pulling back, her lips about to form words but Yeri beats her to it, her mind already whirring away – she’s thinking, again.

 

“Coming, Wendy unnie!”

 

She’s hopping off Joohyun, frantic to pretend her mouth isn’t still burning from the taste of vanilla she’s missed so much.

 

Yeri leaves the room for a distraction from her rampant heart, but Wendy's already waving a quick goodbye at the door that by the time Yeri attempts to call her back, the lock is clicking to a close.

 

Joohyun's coming up around the kitchen countertop, sliding an empty plate towards her.

 

“Here,”

 

But all Yeri really sees are the lines of red scratched along the surface of Joohyun's hand. Yeri pretends her heart isn't climbing up her throat, taking Joohyun's wrist and being careful not to touch the pain written on her skin.

 

“Where's your first-aid kit?”

 

Joohyun's frowning.

 

“It's fine, Yerim.”

 

But it's not. Frustration boils along her limbs, rippling under her skin.

 

“Just let me fix what I can.” It's not an order when her voice cracks to a plead, “Please...”

 

Maybe this is why Joohyun's better off without her. She can't imagine Wendy hurting her like she has.

 

Joohyun's silent when she takes her wrist, guiding her to the bathroom and plucking the first-aid kit out of the cabinet.

 

Yeri grasps the container, ushering Joohyun to sit on the closed toilet seat, pretending she can't feel Joohyun's eyes never leaving her. It’s hard to ignore the fact that they just kissed a moment ago – how temptation rises with each minute Joohyun is alone with her.

 

“You could've just let go, you know.” She attempts to scold but it doesn't come off as commanding as she had hoped, “It looks like it hurts.”

 

Yeri sees the way Joohyun grimaces, her jaw tensing at the touch of antiseptic coloring over the lines of red, small trickles of blood sliding off her skin. She catches each drop with a napkin, patting along the surface, careful to avoid pressing against the marks she's left on Joohyun.

 

Joohyun only hums, almost as if content with the quiet that hovers over them. Yeri can't quite tell, especially not when she's trying to dodge Joohyun's gaze that attempts to meet her eyes.

 

“You've always been stubborn,” familiarity colors her tongue, fingers fiddling with the edges of Joohyun's soft skin, the lines of her hand a map Yeri's got memorized to heart. “...I'm glad you're still stubborn. Even if it makes you out to be an idiot.”

 

Joohyun says nothing, and Yeri is relieved, if only so that she won't have to hear the older woman's opinion of her. Her silence is welcoming, for the most part. Yeri doesn’t dare think it’s because Joohyun’s looking back at a kiss they had shared – nothing good would come out of it.

 

Sticking a bandage wrap over wounded skin, Yeri is shifting around to return the container, opening the cabinet, when Joohyun breaks the quiet.

 

“…You're the reason those girls stopped hurting me, aren't you?”

 

Yeri's heart pauses. A memory of her father trickles into her mind.

 

_(“Then what do you want,” She remembers trying not to yell, “To get you to stop. What will it take?”_

_His smirk still haunts her._

_“Just end it with her.”)_

 

The first-aid kit slips from her fingers, clanging against the tiled floor and breaking open, the contents clattering out.

 

Yeri spots the bandage wrap roll away, thudding against the wall of the tub. But she can't move to retrieve it – she's stuck. Like she’s standing in front of the door, again.

 

“I found it a little off how these random girls were acting out like they were still high school kids stuck in college. But I didn't think much of it.” Joohyun's voice is frighteningly calm, almost calculating. “I didn't care about them pushing me around either because I knew I could handle it. Even if it got petty and we'd end up having fights and I'd leave with some bruises and a sore wrist.”

 

Yeri can't move from where she stands, even when she sees Joohyun bend down to slink the tiny boxes of band-aids and bandage wraps into place, tucking the first-aid kit into the cabinet.

 

Joohyun rises to pause in front of her.

 

“You left me because you loved me.” Yeri doesn't dare to look up, even when Joohyun's hand is cradling her cheek. “That was what you meant when you said that, isn't it?”

 

Yeri's eyes widen.

 

“W-What? No! Of course not—”

 

“Then why did they stop bothering me as soon as I couldn't reach you anymore?”

 

Yeri's mouth snaps shut.

 

Joohyun's chuckling, but the sound is more out of growing realization than happiness. Yeri can feel how Joohyun's fingers tremor against her skin, her eyes lit with a fire waiting to collapse and burst into waves over her limbs.

 

“...I should've known.”

 

Yeri's mind is whirling away, a hurricane of panic racking her skull. She's more concerned with preventing Joohyun from getting impulsive than the truth coming out.

 

If Joohyun finds out that it was her father – the woman's own professor and supervisor, then she would've given up their relationship for _nothing._ Yeri can't have Joohyun’s impulsivity damage her own future for a relationship that didn't last.

 

“Unnie—”

 

“Who is it,” Joohyun’s seething and the panic only rises faster in Yeri’s chest, “Who made you leave me?”

 

She pretends not to hear the anger coiling Joohyun's voice, as if it'd snap open and burn everything in its wake.

 

“No one did! It was a choice I made and—”

 

But Joohyun's not listening. She's already moving away and Yeri barely manages to catch the woman's wrist before she could storm out the bathroom.

 

Joohyun's yanking her hand back.

 

“W-Wait, where are you going?!”

 

“If you're not telling me, then I'll ask someone else.”

 

“Who?!”

 

But Joohyun doesn't answer her, as if she's never heard her. It makes fear shoot up higher, wrapping itself around Yeri's chest, clawing up her throat, running along her tongue. Her words are coming out chopped, terror for the truth scraping through her bones.

 

“U-Unnie! Wait—!”

 

Yeri's tripping on terror, scrambling to clutch at Joohyun's back, but her fingers barely mark the surface of the sweater. Joohyun's steps stomp the floor as if welded in steel, each thud a reminder that Joohyun is about to destroy everything she's given up.

 

She wrenches Joohyun's jacket as soon as the older woman plucks it off the rack, ignoring the blaze in Joohyun's eyes.

 

Yeri finds it ironic that they've circled back to when she had left Joohyun behind. But Joohyun's the one in front of the door, now.

 

“Yerim—”

 

“It's done! We're already _done!_ ” Her voice is ragged and breathy and desperate, “Even if you _could_ do something, what difference would that make?! It's Wendy unnie who you're in love with now and—”

 

“And before that, I was in love with _you!_ ”

 

It's the loudest Joohyun's ever been. They've had their share of arguments, where doors would slam and echo like gunshots to the heart, but Yeri's never heard Joohyun yell like the world has crumbled over.

 

Yeri can feel her hands attempt to reach out, to hold Joohyun and stop her from shaking, but there's a fury too engraved into Joohyun's bones. Her eyes are alight with an understanding that makes Yeri choke on all the lies she's learned to swallow.

 

Joohyun _knows._

 

Yeri's not sure how to feel about that.

 

“...What we had was something I never wanted to lose,” Joohyun's twisting away, sliding on her boots. Yeri could hear how hard Joohyun's breathing, as if her throat is scorching. “But I did, and I can't take that back.”

 

Yeri wants to move, but just like earlier this morning, her feet have stilled as if nailed to the floor. Her heart quickens when Joohyun turns the knob of the apartment's door, her jacket still stuck in Yeri's grip. Joohyun’s not trying to take it back.

 

“Unnie...”

 

It's weak and pathetic and ridiculous how she's trying to fill every ounce of herself into a call she knows Joohyun would still ignore. But it's all she has left to stop Joohyun from walking out that door and ruining every quiet moment she had where she knew that her choice, at the end of the day, would eventually have Joohyun be okay without her.

 

If Joohyun leaves now, then everything she's done would have been pointless. There wouldn't have been a need to switch schools, wake up alone, avoid Joohyun's calls, hide behind corners to dodge the days when Joohyun would walk down the same street as her—

 

Yeri could see how her vision is blurring again; the tears are welling up beneath her eyes, spilling out to cascade over her skin.

 

— there wouldn't have been a need to _leave_ her.

 

“Don't make me regret leaving you more than I already do, unnie.”

 

Giving up Joohyun for Wendy to come in and steal her away can't be the result of something pointless.

 

It _can't._

 

“I'm going to fight for us, Yerim. Even if it isn't there anymore.”

 

Yeri watches her disappear behind a closing door, listening to the lock click shut, taking all the lies Yeri has told along with her. There’s nothing but the truth that hangs over Yeri’s shoulders now, flitting about in the air, entering her lungs with the breaths she takes in.

 

Her tears have made their marks on her skin, but even that couldn’t keep Joohyun from leaving.

 

Yeri laughs into a shaking hand, a broken sob spilling her lips, attempting to dry her eyes with jittery fingers, but they’re still welling up. It’s too late now. She can’t take it back.

 

“…You’ve always been stubborn.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update long overdue. I swear, this chapter has the most number of drafts; my eyeballs feel like they’re hanging out of their sockets by a thread. But yay it’s done! Hopefully 2017’s been good to you.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.
> 
>  
> 
> PS: Hi there, NT anon. :)


	14. Seesaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy's not comfortable with knowing there are still things left unsaid.

Wendy's not comfortable with knowing there are still things left unsaid.

 

She watches the way Joohyun shifts through the kitchen, aimless as if her hands have no direction, merely fluttering through cupboards like the noises would fill up a map – show her where to go.

 

The creases between her brows are too deep to be nothing, along with the frown lining her lips.

 

Ones she'd just kissed.

 

Wendy knows what's troubling her. Maybe it's the reason hesitation was so embedded in Joohyun that Wendy didn't feel the need to yank her back in for another.

 

It isn't hard to figure out when Joohyun keeps sharing brief glances towards her bedroom door.

 

Wendy musters up the words on her tongue.

 

“You should go to her,”

 

Joohyun pauses her movement, stilling by the refrigerator. She doesn't look surprised by her suggestion, not when Joohyun stops as if to listen, the quiet passing over, patient for an explanation.

 

Wendy shuffles closer, gentle when she holds Joohyun's arm, squeezing for their eyes to meet.

 

“There are still things you two haven't been able to say, right?”

 

Joohyun turns to her, a shaky breath breezing past her lips, doubt so embedded on her tongue that Wendy has no trouble hearing the nerves in her voice.

 

“But what if I do something stupid?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“...Like kiss her.”

 

Wendy smiles, drawing invisible circles on Joohyun's arm with her thumb, attempt to massage out the jitters in Joohyun's bones.

 

“It wouldn't be stupid,” she cradles Joohyun's cheek with her free hand, warmth filling her up when Joohyun leans into her touch. “I think it'd be brave.”

 

Because it must be bravery to open up to someone who still manages to make them feel hurt – feel _anything._

 

Joohyun's chuckling, moving her head so her lips press into Wendy's palm, the heat of her breaths seeping deep into Wendy's skin that her heart starts to skip.

 

“Right,” she raises a hand to keep Wendy's fingers there, kissing words against Wendy's skin. “Stupidly brave.”

 

Wendy laughs, listening to Joohyun join in, feeling her smile write against her palm. It feels the same again – this homey comfort, the tension that had once seized them, gone.

 

Joohyun's shut her eyes, as if to savor her touch, Wendy's not sure, until Joohyun tugs her hand, shifting her lips to trace past her palm down to linger on Wendy's wrist.

 

A deeper kiss presses against her skin, so soft that Wendy could pretend it was all a mere figment of her imagination. But it isn't when Joohyun stays there, as if to make sure she knew it too.

 

Wendy's worried that Joohyun can feel her heart race through it.

 

“J-Joohyun?”

 

The curtain of lashes lifting has Wendy holding her breath, paralyzed under Joohyun's steady gaze. How unwavering Joohyun's voice is makes Wendy's knees almost buckle. It doesn't help that Joohyun's lips still write against her skin.

 

“...You're right. I want to talk to Yerim. Sort everything out and finally understand so I won't think about it anymore.”

 

Joohyun's letting go but only so her lips can paint across Wendy's knuckles. Wendy grips tighter on Joohyun's arm, afraid that if she doesn't, she really will have her knees meeting the floor.

 

But with how Joohyun's taking over her heart, heating up her skin with ghost kisses across her hand, Wendy considers yanking her in for the oxygen her lungs are suddenly deprived of. Wendy wouldn't be surprised if she falls now.

 

Joohyun’s smile makes it hard to resist.

 

“So I can just think about you.”

 

_Oh god,_

 

She pulls Joohyun in, falling into lips she's already kissed when they were in bed together just moments ago – a mouth she can't get enough of, hoping that Joohyun can feel how much she wants this. Wants _them._

 

Vanilla coils her lungs, filling them up that when she finally breathes it all comes out shaky, sighing into Joohyun's embrace, snuggling closer when arms draw her in.

 

Seconds pass, maybe more (there's no point counting time when she's with Joohyun), shuddering under a fleeting kiss when she finally pulls back, just enough to have Joohyun a breath away.

 

To think she's panting for a marathon Joohyun's made her run in even when they've been standing still.

 

Joohyun blinks, mouth agape, as if to gawk at the fact that they've just kissed – _again,_ Wendy's not sure, easily imagining the gears in her head spinning. Wendy chuckles at how it dawns over Joohyun's eyes like spilled paint.

 

“...Seungwan?”

 

It's funny how surprise curls along her name, like cursives of handwriting, wiggling its way into her heart and only speeding up the pace that she's still running in.

 

“...I just want to think about you, too.”

 

Shy beneath her breath but it's as honest as her weak knees, barely standing if not for Joohyun's grip circled around her, keeping her upright and just close enough to kiss again.

 

...God, she wants to kiss her again.

 

But it'll have to wait.

 

“Can we talk? Tonight, I mean.” Wendy curls auburn behind her ear, “There's just - there's so much I want to tell you, and I don't know if you'd want to even hear any of them, but...” she clutches Joohyun's sweater tighter, “...but I want you to know. About everything.”

 

Seulgi's taken up every bone in her body, of images that hurt to recall, a skeleton in her closet. That shouldn't be. It's scary to think about how much she doesn't really know and how much she _should._

 

If Joohyun could face the things that haunt her, then she could, too. Besides, if she wants to tell Joohyun everything, then she'll have to remember it all, first.

 

Wendy rubs her thumb over the ends of Joohyun's sweater, smiling.

 

It's as soft as Joohyun.

 

“Just make sure you talk to Yeri first, okay? I'm sure she wants to tell you everything, too. Even if it doesn't look like it.”

 

It's about time she started listening to the noises in her head.

 

Joohyun blinks, as if attempting to register what she's just said, before soft chuckles escape her lips and the sound makes Wendy grin.

 

Affection swallows her chest, rising up to color warmth across her cheeks when Joohyun ruffles her hair.

 

“You sound like a better unnie than I could ever be.” Joohyun smirks, combing stray bangs from Wendy's face. “Tonight, then. I'll be here.”

 

Joohyun pauses, as if thinking, before leaning in, her smile warm against Wendy's temple, somehow more intimate than the kiss their lips shared. Wendy shuts her eyes so she could memorize it better.

 

When Joohyun shifts back, causing her touch to fade along with her, Wendy watches Joohyun leave for Yeri. A soft click of the door tells her it's hiding away two people who haven't been as honest as they should’ve been from the start.

 

Wendy stares at it for a little longer, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves as she shuffles her feet across the kitchen floor. When she cycles around the table for the fifth time, Wendy forces herself to stop by the grip against the countertop.

 

She knows exactly what she's supposed to do, but she's stalling because it's always easier that way. Easier than the fear of knowing how much it'll hurt when she does it.

 

Wendy searches for the lighter Joohyun had given her on her birthday, finding comfort in the touch of cool metal beneath her skin when she takes it from her jacket pocket. Settling on the sofa, Wendy fiddles with the box of silver, anxious for the memory reel that will inevitably come.

 

It's random at best, the bursts of images that are too familiar but can't be recalled. Wendy's learned that when it gets quiet enough, they creep in, like the slow crawl of smoke.

 

Flicking the lighter open and close will make the noises disappear, the sound as calming as the ticks of her watch and the clicks of the door; but as tempting as it is to do just that, Wendy knows she shouldn't.

 

So Wendy holds it close to her chest, curling up against the corner of the couch, and shuts her eyes - looking for the courage she often sees in Joohyun, and waits.

 

She won't count the noises away anymore.

 

-

 

Joy watches Seulgi flip through pages of her scrapbook.

 

Why she even bothered showing Seulgi in the first place is beyond her. Oh well. Too late now. No use regretting it.

 

Joy twiddles with a strand of hair, ebony coiled between her fingers; they're getting long. She should cut it short again - less of a hassle to manage.

 

Her gaze flickers up from time to time to watch Seulgi sweep through pages of what is supposed to be her most prized possession.

 

Joy wonders what Seulgi must think of her now.

 

Finding images of herself captured on someone else's photo album is one thing, but to have them all shot like they were meant to be kept is another. Joy wouldn't know what to do if she found out that someone had taken pictures of her.

 

Maybe call them a “Creep” before taking the album and burning it.

 

Joy can already guess which images Seulgi has already seen from the various colored tabs she has stuck on the edges of each page.

 

Yellow for summer, red for fall, blue for winter, and green for spring.

 

Counting the number of yellow and red tabs, Joy already knows that Seulgi has seen the pictures she's taken of her. After all, she has only caught Seulgi during two of the four seasons.

 

Not that she meant to, anyway.

 

A candid picture on a bicycle, another where she's perched on top of the hill at the park, painting. Seulgi would've seen the one in the restaurant by the window too, if Joy hadn't already given her the image as a gift when she had been crying outside in the snow.

 

To think she had stopped to sit in the darn snow with her and keep her company - it sounds silly even in her own head.

 

Joy hopes that it was obvious enough that she was never the actual subject, poking out around the corners, to being a blurry blob in the background.

 

She just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

 

“Go on, tell me I'm a stalker. A creeper. Whatever.” Joy's waving a hand, “I can take it. Just don't rip those pictures off, please. Polaroid film is expensive.”

 

Joy's rambling, excuses leaving her mouth like rapid fire - anything to distract herself from the fact that Seulgi is still currently looking through her picture diary.

 

At this point, Joy would rather Seulgi say something than be swallowed in all this silence. It's too loud to be this quiet.

 

Why did she even bother showing her in the first place? Seulgi should just talk already.

 

“...You really are in love with me.”

 

Joy freezes up. She swears her heart has paused, along with the words that still float in the air between the quiet that only sounds louder, now.

 

That was _not_ what Joy had in mind when she wanted Seulgi to talk.

 

Who even states the obvious like that? She hasn't even said she loves her that way, yet.

 

She swallows, attempts to gather herself, replying with a voice far more hoarse than she'd like.

 

“Was there ever any doubt?”

 

“...A little,” Seulgi starts, tapping on a yellow tab; she's back to looking at summer. “I don't know how to help someone who's in love with me.”

 

Joy frowns. “As in, move on?”

 

Seulgi doesn't say anything, but the tiny smile quirking up along her lips is all Joy needs to see.

 

Joy shrugs, ignoring the harsh tug in her chest.

 

“Good luck with that.” She says between scraping lint off the ends of her sweater, “It'd be a miracle if you could get me to spend a day without thinking of you.”

 

Seulgi hums like the truth doesn't bother her, eyes never leaving the pages of her scrapbook; almost as if it entranced her to stay.

 

Joy ignores how attentive and careful Seulgi is being with the pages of her heart.

 

“So you don't find it creepy?”

 

“I do,” Seulgi tilts her head, a low hum leaving her throat. “But maybe it's because I know you a little better now that it doesn't make this _that_ creepy. Sort of.”

 

Joy snorts, though she's unable to stop the smile that crawls across her mouth.

 

It goes quiet again except for the soft shuffling of paper and pictures, Seulgi still so drawn to the pages of her scrapbook.

 

Joy takes this time to text Joohyun - ask if Yeri made it safely to her last night, as well as think back on the moments in between, where Seulgi occupies more than just a metaphorical piece of her heart and had taken up residence on her actual couch.

 

_(“You don't get to just waltz in and shove my feelings right up my face just so you could leave me behind with them still all over the place.”)_

 

Even in her own head, Joy doesn't recognize herself.

 

“...I meant it, you know.”

 

Seulgi's gaze lifts from a page of autumn, confusion palpable by the arch of her brow. When she thinks about it, Seulgi hadn't looked at anything else for a while since she had first shown her the photo album.

 

Joy clears her throat.

 

“About what I said earlier. That you can call me and text me - whenever, and about whatever.”

 

There's a smile wrinkling the corners of Seulgi's mouth. Joy teeters on the balls of her feet, feeling awkward from the stare Seulgi is giving her. Seulgi always did manage to make her feel nervous.

 

It gets worse when Seulgi approaches, her hand a gentle weight on Joy's elbow, squeezing like the foundation for support.

 

“I meant it, too.”

 

Joy's brows furrow, the skin between them crinkling up.

 

“About what?”

 

“That I don't think I'd ever get sick of someone who loves me. So you can tell me everything,” Seulgi pauses, shutting the scrapbook. “How you feel - sad, angry, or frustrated at me, you can say it. I won't hold any of it against you.”

 

She can't tell if it's some cosmic joke to have her crush tell her it's okay to let her know how she feels. Joy's already told her the most crucial part; there wouldn't be any point to saying the little details.

 

She'd just be hammering the obvious in.

 

“What good would that do, exactly?”

 

Seulgi shrugs, a lopsided smile curling along her face.

 

“I just think that maybe letting everything out might help you move on from me. I can listen to you until you have nothing left to say.”

 

Joy blinks.

 

Right.

 

Seulgi wants to help her. If Joy can speak about her feelings, have them all come out, then maybe it'll help her not to dwell on them anymore.

 

But to think that Seulgi wants to help her move on—

 

“...You think I'll actually run out of things to say about you.”

 

—it hurts more than Joy would like.

 

To think she thought she would be different from the rest - from the idiots who can't help but pine over the impossible. How laughable.

 

Seulgi tilts her head to the side, curiosity drawing along her expression, her pout too obvious to ignore.

 

“Wouldn't you?”

 

“Have you run out of things to say about Wendy?”

 

There's a frown curving Seulgi's lips, the crinkles in skin between her brows deeper than Joy's used to. Her gaze is mixed with a certain ferocity that isn't often associated with her softer demeanor, more fire than the gentle she's used to.

 

But Seulgi still says nothing.

 

Joy snorts, combing her hair back.

 

“Yeah, I didn't think so.”

 

Seulgi sighs. “...I hate her,” fingers fiddle with the edge of a yellow tab, “but I love her, too.”

 

Joy raises a brow, silence sealing her lips.

 

It's hard not to listen to Seulgi's heart speak.

 

“Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I had looked for her earlier - if I had told her earlier...” Seulgi tucks strands of hair behind her ear, “About how we used to be. But I loved the thought of destiny; even hoped that she would fall in love with me again without needing to remind her. But I guess you can't depend on things like fate.”

 

Joy keeps mum, catching Seulgi's flickering gaze before it settles back on the colorful tabs of her scrapbook.

 

Seulgi laughs like it's hard to do.

 

“...I should've loved her more than the idea that we were meant to be.”

 

Joy remains quiet, watching Seulgi fidget like it helps her form words better.

 

Seulgi's fingers trace worn-out edges along the photo album, as if her hands needed something to do. Seulgi isn't crying - her tears seem to have dried. Or maybe her eyes have gotten tired of the waterworks. Joy can't tell.

 

She just knows that Seulgi sounds like she doesn't want to cry about Wendy, anymore.

 

“But to think she didn't fall in love with me again. What changed? Did she not love me enough before to fall in love with me again?” A frown curls along Seulgi's lips, brows scrunching up. “...Is Joohyun unnie that much better than me?”

 

Joy's lips purse, inclined to speak up. If love could be measured as easily as weighing shallow qualities like personality and appearances, then it wouldn't be as elusive or remarkable - or a pain in the ass.

 

It'd never be that simple.

 

“To me, yeah. Joohyun unnie's better than you.”

 

When she thinks about it, she's never seen Seulgi flare up like anger is crawling up her throat, as if to scream and just let go. Tension along her jaw is as easy to spot as the tremor in her hands, skin along her fingertips taking on a sheet of white.

 

Seulgi's titan grip on her scrapbook should be worrying - it's her paper film of life's moments she considers worth cherishing, but only calm thrums her limbs.

 

When it comes down to it, no camera comes close to capturing images like the blink of an eye, growing a cache of memories that is infinite for as long as she lives.

 

Joy watches Seulgi bare her teeth as if to bite down whatever words are thrashing about on her tongue.

 

Jealousy kind of looks good on her.

 

“But Joohyun unnie's not the one I'm in love with, is she?”

 

It still has nothing against her smile written out of happiness, though.

 

That quiet anger drawn across Seulgi's face dissipates like smoke from her skin. No more upside-down smile, or crinkles between her brows, or the fire in her eyes.

 

Joy twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, ignoring the fact that she's trying to make Seulgi feel better by telling her heart like Seulgi didn't already know it.

 

“So it has nothing to do with being better. If that were true, then I'd know that I'd be too good for you and wouldn't bother wasting my time.”

 

Joy pretends she doesn't already know that; that despite acknowledging her self-value, she ditches it for mere monolid eyes and a toothy grin that wouldn't stop photobombing her pictures.

 

Seulgi's quiet, her gaze back on the closed pages of her scrapbook. Joy wonders if she has hurt her feelings in some way. She sighs, taking Seulgi's wrist and dragging her down to sit with her on the sofa, slumping comfortably into the cushion.

 

Maybe they should start talking about something else.

 

“Knowing how much you suck in the kitchen, I wonder if it'll convince me not to be so enamored with you.”

 

Seulgi's instinctive laughter paints a smile on Joy's face, the sound akin to the brightness she's often seen in Seulgi when she took pictures of her (without meaning to, of course).

 

“I'll have to cook with you more often to see if it works, then.”

 

Joy had promised herself that there wouldn't be a next time. Or at least, be smart enough to stop it at the door, keep Seulgi out and away from her heart more than she already was.

 

Chuckles color her throat. “I guess so.”

 

Joy listens to Seulgi talk about her schedule for the next few days, hands animated to showcase an excitement Joy already feels bubbling in her own chest; along with a suffocating dread knowing that she's already a lost cause. Spiraling out of control and allowing Seulgi to take reign of her choices, have a say in what she could do, is barbaric. Insane, even. And significantly detrimental to her well-being.

 

But she's already sunk low enough that there isn't any point in swimming up to the surface; might as well go all the way down.

 

Joy tucks her hair back. “I'm free Friday. Want to catch a movie and sleep over again? You're paying for the tickets, though.”

 

Seulgi's hug is tight and warm and uncalled for. Butterflies tumble and trip and fall in her stomach, enough to make Joy gag at how soft she's gotten - and how much she really wants this.

 

“Of course! You're the best!”

 

Joy holds her back, nuzzling into her shoulder, breathing in orange that only manages to make her crave for more. She mumbles against warmth that isn't hers to keep.

 

“I know.”

 

-

 

Nothing.

 

There's nothing.

 

Wendy can't hear anything.

 

Even when it's quiet, or even when there's chatter - whether there's the clinks of plates or the ticks of the clock, she'd hear something. Anything. She'd even see glimpses of images she can't recall.

 

But now there's nothing.

 

What does that mean? Isn't there anything left to hear? Is there really nothing left to see?

 

Wendy considers all the times she's had when noises crawled along her mind, invaded every thought that her limbs couldn't help but find peace in sounds she had to make.

 

Often it'd happen during mundane things; routine action tended to call for spontaneous images, whether she'd be in the basement doing the laundry, or baking in the kitchen.

 

Maybe she should just do what she normally does; make breakfast like the start of a new day.

 

“Right, yeah. That's it.”

 

Wendy mumbles, settling for that, shoving Joohyun's lighter into her pocket, the weight of metal soothing comfort past the fabric and into her skin.

 

Fluttering through the kitchen comes automated, the cogs in her limbs reaching for cupboards and pans and plates as instinctive as breathing. Shuffles of her feet from one end to the other are in sync with the motions of routine, as if the map boiled in her veins.

 

It isn't until she's staring at plates filled with food that Wendy realizes she's already made breakfast and the noises have yet to greet her.

 

Was there nothing left for her to remember?

 

_“Just let me go!”_

 

Wendy jumps at the shrill cry, almost stumbling backwards into a still-hot pan, catching herself by the edge of the counter, eyes peeled towards the door that still has Joohyun and Yeri hidden.

 

Their voices come muffled, indiscernible at times, but when it reaches a particular pitch, as if it could draw cracks along the walls and shatter her eardrums, Wendy winces at the pain clawing from their throats.

 

_“What makes you think I'd want to go anywhere without you? You know that I'd do anything for you—”_

_“Don't say that! Don't you_ dare _say that!”_

_“But it's tr—”_

 

There's a pained grunt that follows, easily recognizing it to be Joohyun's; it isn't hard to deduce when her words cut off quicker than it should. It makes worry scratch along Wendy's mind.

 

Did Yeri hurt her?

 

_“Because I'd order you to kiss me, I'd tell you to make love to me, and then I'd want you to tell me that you're still in love with me too!”_

 

Wendy winces.

 

With how pain painted Yeri's eyes like it had been scarred there, it wasn't a surprise to hear how desperation scorched her throat, puncturing enough to ring in Wendy's ears despite the barricade of a door.

 

But she shouldn't be hearing this. She shouldn't be hearing any of this.

 

Her fingers begin to make numbers on her sleeve out of knowing that she's listening to a broken lover and not the noises in her head.

 

_“...Why can't I be okay with just wanting you?”_

 

If heartbreak had a voice, it'd probably be Yeri's.

 

Wendy can't listen anymore.

 

The kitchen has always been reliable company, between the creaking cupboards when pulled open, to the soft steady hum of the refrigerator.

 

This distance should be enough to muffle their voices, allow privacy for a conversation long overdue. But even when it goes quiet again, Wendy is still keenly aware of how silent her head has gotten.

 

Was it because it talked already?

 

_(“Because that's all you need, Seul.”)_

 

Was that all it - _she,_ needed to say?

 

_“Make love to me.”_

 

Wendy doesn't know why out of all the things she could hear, it has to be that one.

 

Maybe it'd be better if she left for a little bit. Get some fresh air and ease this childish green jealousy that's growing in her chest despite knowing that Joohyun had been clear about her feelings.

 

Wendy decides to let them know, hopefully alleviate the tension that's seeping through the parting beneath the door, even if it's just so they could pause for breakfast.

 

As soon as she raises a fist to knock, Joohyun's voice filters into her ears, nestling comfortably, making warmth find place in her chest and replacing the green that had festered there.

 

_“Then I'd be lying to you.”_

 

Joohyun certainly doesn't let doubt stay longer than necessary.

 

Wendy can't help but smile, a mixture of happiness for herself and sadness for another, coiling along her lips. Her knuckles leave a gentle reminder on Joohyun's door.

 

“Hey, um, breakfast is ready. I'll be doing the laundry downstairs, okay?”

 

She backs away as soon her mouth is cleared of the words she needed to say, making sure the plates are settled properly for the two to see before reaching the apartment door.

 

_“Coming, Wendy unnie!”_

 

It isn't hard to hear how desperately joyful Yeri pretends to be, how much she's barely holding on together. Lying sounds like it's all she has left.

 

Wendy musters up a smile her way in hopes that Yeri could see there's more to everything than pretending to be okay.

 

Once the door clicks after her, Wendy slowly heads for the laundry room to seek silence, wondering if there won't be noises to listen to anymore. It can’t be gone just like that, can it?

 

Was it just waiting for another opportunity to surprise her again?

 

Wendy jolts at the sound of Yeri's voice puncturing the walls, loud enough that it blows past their respective apartment, echoing down the hall; it startles Wendy to twist back.

 

 _“It's done! We're already_ done! _Even if you_ could _do something, what difference would that make?! It's Wendy unnie who you're in love with now and—”_

_“And before that, I was in love with you!”_

 

Joohyun's never been this loud - enough to jump-start Wendy's limbs into staggering back towards the apartment, fearing that their conversation could be going worse than it should.

 

Hesitation paralyzes her hands, eager to knock, go back in and act as the peacekeeper, but something's telling her not to. That it's better to let every inhibition go, tell every pain out loud - even if it's in screams that are piercing enough to have Wendy choke on all the pain embedded in their voices.

 

Wendy jumps at the sound of the lock turning, stumbling to the side as if to hide, though it's silly considering how it's an open corridor - and how it isn't a secret that she'd inevitably play witness.

 

Joohyun's eyes have turned ochre, darker like the rest of her expression, more grim than Wendy's used to.

 

But there's a clarity in her movements, more precise than the practiced and calculated steps Wendy's familiar with, as if she's finally found a map she's been searching for.

 

Wendy holds her breath as soon as their gazes meet.

 

Joohyun smiles.

 

“Thanks. For everything, I mean.” Joohyun ruffles Wendy's hair as she passes by, her other hand marred by bandage wraps, pearly whites peeking across her face. “I just have to settle one last thing, but I'll make sure I'm home tonight, okay, Wan?”

 

Maybe it's because there's joy in the way she says her name, or blissful affection lined in her touches, but either way, it controls something in Wendy, reaching out to pause steady steps - pull Joohyun back so they're closer again. Surprise is easy to read in Joohyun's eyes, her yelp too endearing not to laugh at.

 

“S-Seungwa—?”

 

Wendy takes in vanilla that still coats Joohyun's mouth, cradles Joohyun's face between her palms. It's simple and sweet, much like the lazy Sunday afternoons they'd spend together lounging on the sofa, watching soap operas and laughing at their horrible acting.

 

When she pulls back just enough to feel Joohyun sigh, watch lashes flutter open, Wendy smiles at the whisper of happiness she writes against Joohyun's lips.

 

“For good luck.”

 

Joohyun's thank you consists of tucking auburn behind Wendy's ear, along with a simple “Goodbye.” It's more reassuring than pinky promises or signed signatures documented on paper; more intimate than fingers clasped together, and deeper than ink from any marker.

 

When Joohyun disappears from her sight, Wendy remembers pain still hiding away behind her apartment door; Yeri didn't follow her.

 

Finding comfort by the phantom touch of Joohyun's fingers, Wendy twists the knob open, hoping she could at least be there for Yeri.

 

She’ll worry about the lack of noises, later.

 

-

 

Joohyun's always been a seeker of the truth.

 

Her stubbornness is both her virtue and her downfall. At least, that's what Yeri thinks.

 

Even if things would be better left alone, as soon as Joohyun notices something amiss, she would always prod further – to see what could be hiding beneath layers of pleasant lies and rotten secrets.

 

It didn't matter whether the present was better, prettier, and perfect; if there was even a sliver of dirty doubt wedged between cracks that made up paradise, Joohyun would claw her way through to find out why it wasn't the way it should be. And why she was convinced that it was.

 

Yeri can't hide a bitter laugh from escaping her throat, raspy and hoarse from tears that couldn't hold Joohyun back.

 

She doesn't bother wiping off the stains that mark her skin, feeling them roll down to her chin, drop to the wooden floor of a quiet apartment that her heart shares with a different woman.

 

Exhausted legs drag towards the kitchen table, plopping herself down on a stool chair, lifeless at the sight of a closed door that Joohyun had walked out of just a few moments ago.

 

It's numbing to think that all her lies have left with Joohyun; no more weights press down on her chest, no more poison that wells up in her stomach - there's nothing left.

 

She's gotten used to filling herself up with secrets that as soon as they've been told, Yeri doesn't know what to do.

 

Maybe that's why she feels so oddly empty.

 

A flicker of yellow peeks through the corner of her eyes, finding that Joohyun has left her cellphone behind in the midst of their little spat.

 

Its blinking light tells her there's a notification waiting to be read, the ringer clearly set off. No one else is in the apartment, now. Just the silence that keeps her company, a wreckage of two; damaged and left behind by the tempest of Joohyun's hunger for the truth.

 

Yeri considers snooping. It doesn't last long before her choice is made, hands flicking through the screen; no password required.

 

There's nothing left for her to lose, anyway.

 

_(Hey, did Yeri stay with you last night?)_

Sender: Park Sooyoung

Received: 10:15:32 AM

Received: 03/02/16

 

Ah, right. Joy.

 

This is all because of Joy.

 

It was inevitable to have the truth spill out like cascades of rain; soak them all and have them freeze under the chill of drenched clothes and two-year-long secrets.

 

But Joohyun didn't have to know. Not for a long time. Not until she was finally okay.

 

Stupid Joy.

 

“Yeri?”

 

A voice that captured Joohyun worms its way into her ears, curls up in her head to usher her to look up, find Wendy entering through the door Joohyun had left from.

 

Yeri musters up the biggest smile she could, hiding away Joohyun's phone in her pocket.

 

“...Hi, Wendy unnie.”

 

It surprises her when Wendy comes closer, wrapping thin arms around her, as if to blanket her from the quiet that's rattling her heart.

 

Yeri manages to laugh a little. “What's this hug for?”

 

Wendy hums. “You looked like you needed one.”

 

She recalls saying this to Wendy last night, just before the whirlwind that was Joohyun came crashing in.

 

Yeri wants to laugh at how the situation's changed; how their stories have turned around, where she needs Wendy's shoulder to cry on instead.

 

She manages a chuckle between broken sobs, cracking open and spilling out what had accumulated for the past few years she's kept to herself. It doesn't matter who hears, now.

 

“She's not supposed to - she wasn't supposed to—” They trickle out without rest, cutting off to breathe between hiccups.

 

Wendy's rubbing her back, hushing her broken mantra with her mute support. Yeri only holds her tighter.

 

Time passes enough for her tears to subside, swallow back beneath her eyes. Wendy hasn't let her go yet, as if a long embrace would stitch up her torn diary.

 

Yeri pats her back. “...Thanks, unnie.”

 

Shifting, Wendy's looking at her with bright eyes, concern so palpable that Yeri could feel herself sink in them. It's no wonder Joohyun fell in love.

 

“Do you need anything? You haven't eaten yet, right? I'll warm this up for you. Just stay, okay?”

 

There's something tingling in her chest, spreading to warm her heart, caused by affection that belongs to someone she thought she'd hate.

 

Yeri was sure she'd grow to dislike her - or at least a little bit, when she sat across Joohyun at the restaurant and caught their hands tangled together beneath the table.

 

“...You make it hard to hate you.”

 

Maybe she didn't word it right, grabbing Wendy's wrist as soon as she catches the older woman flinch back, as if she had hurled a knife and barely missed.

 

Yeri can't help but smile at Wendy's stuttering lips.

 

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

 

“But it's not like I want to, either.” She wraps her arms around Wendy, just to hold warm comfort one more time. “And I'm glad I don't.”

 

Wendy sinks into her embrace, feels her hug back, touch so timid it's almost adorable enough to make Yeri melt.

 

Mischief travels through her veins, eager to erase the affection pooling in her stomach, patting Wendy's soft bottom out of playful spite and laughing when Wendy jumps, her squeak piercing the calmer air.

 

“Now before you start making me cry again, let's go warm them up. I'm starving.”

 

-

 

When breakfast settles in her stomach and dishes are clean and left to dry, Yeri nods at Wendy's, “I'll be right back,” before watching her leave for the bathroom.

 

They talked about going shopping together, eating out, spending time doing anything else just so they could think about everything but Joohyun. Wendy offered to even take her to the park as soon as she was done with her shower.

 

It's been pleasant. Wendy is company Yeri doesn't mind spending time with; they're more than acquaintances and lesser than enemies. Maybe they're friends, even, but Yeri didn't think she could ever be friends with Joohyun's lover (then again, she didn't think Joohyun would have any other lover besides herself). But it's not like Joohyun and Wendy are together, either. At least, not yet.

 

But the inevitability is blatantly obvious that they might as well hang up neon signs on their foreheads; save everyone the trouble from waiting any longer than necessary.

 

Yeri slumps across the table, heart heavier than she could currently carry.

 

Joohyun's cellphone is light in her hands, wanting to laugh at how she still doesn't have a password. Then again, Joohyun's not the type to keep secrets. Not like her, anyway.

 

Yeri's absent minded when she flickers through Joohyun's contact list, as plain as the owner herself. No emoji's or creative names besides the default of first and last names.

 

Not until she finds the one meant for Wendy, anyway. Her thumb hovers over “Home”, blaringly bright and taunting - and everything Yeri wants to be.

 

It'd be so easy to erase the label Joohyun had given to someone else.

 

But it doesn't take much effort to not alter a single thing, wondering if Wendy's wormed her way into her heart deeper than she's realized.

 

Rolling past in search of her own name, a pang thrums in her chest when she finds that it's still the same; even when they’re not, anymore.

 

Yerim <3

 

They've all changed; it's not something to keep, much less have, now that there's Wendy - and what she truly means to Joohyun.

 

Tapping the edit button on her name, Yeri makes the necessary adjustments, watching “Yerim <3” disappear into nothing and replacing it with the appropriate distance. It was about time.

 

Yeri smiles at the new caller ID she's given herself, ignores the pinch in her chest and the jitters in her hands telling her to change it back to the way it was - what Joohyun left it to be.

 

But to Joohyun, she should only be Kim Yerim and nothing else.

 

Taking a sticky note from Joohyun's study desk in her room, Yeri scribbles a small note for Wendy to read later, sticking it on the kitchen counter and making sure that Joohyun's phone is set to the highest volume.

 

She leaves the cellphone between crinkled sheets, making sure it's mixed up in the scramble of chaos on Joohyun's bed.

 

Wendy will have to play a little scavenger hunt later; Yeri's sure she wouldn't really mind. Especially not when she eventually finds it.

 

It's a little rude of her to be leaving without saying a proper goodbye, not even waiting for Wendy to come back from her shower, but Yeri figures it'll be okay. What she'll find will probably more than make up for it.

 

There are still things she has to sort out with a particular “Giant”, anyway.

 

Yeri slips on her leather boots and jacket, grasping her shopping bags by the door, and doesn't look back.

 

-

 

Irene bears Yerim's truth like newfound armor.

 

Hesitation no longer exists between each breath she takes towards a door that hides the reason behind every haunting dream. Doubt used to ebb at her mind, attempt to convince her that Yerim left her because she couldn't meet elusive expectations - that she wasn't good enough. Irene had found a bit of peace in thinking that Yerim knew what she was doing; that she was happier without her, and that was okay.

 

But Yerim carried nightmares as if it were her heart on her sleeve, been haunted much like all the times Irene couldn't sleep. Irene couldn't believe she hadn't been able to see it sooner.

 

Maybe it's a little too late, but that isn't a reason to just set things aside and pretend it isn't still there.

 

She knows better, now.

 

Yerim deserves a happy ending.

 

“You made Yerim leave me, didn't you.”

 

It's a statement that punctures through the air as soon as she's in his office, not bothering to wait for the door to shut behind her. It was easy enough to deduce; no one else could influence Yerim better than her father.

 

When it clicks to a close like a pin hitting against the floor, loud against the silence, Irene continues to speak like he wasn't her superior.

 

“'She would never be good enough for her,'“ she steps forward, ignores the pointed stare he sends her way. “That was what you thought of me the moment you found out, wasn't it?”

 

His gaze lingers until it drops to his desk, papers scattered across like order doesn't exist.

 

“A knowledgeable observer. I've always liked that about you. I'm just surprised it took you this long.”

 

Irene narrows her eyes.

 

“I didn't mean to make you wait.”

 

He hums, the sound of his blue ballpoint pen scratching the surface of crisp sheet of white.

 

“Considerate, too. It's no wonder you were my favorite.”

 

“I'm relieved,” Irene rakes her hair back, makes sure her gaze can't be missed. “I was afraid I'd still be your favorite.”

 

He chuckles. “Never one to mince words, either.”

 

Papers get shuffled on his desk; he's flitting through work like it's any other day. Nonchalance plagues his tongue like a jacket; wrapped around him as if snug to the bone.

 

“You've always been stubborn.” He starts, his eyes flickering towards her briefly before going back to his task. “So Yerim was naturally the easier one to convince.”

 

Irritation begins to itch at her ears, his voice like audio plaque; a dense mass obstructing her hearing, allowing anger to slowly blend in, seep into her head.

 

It starts to bleed along her fingers, an involuntary quake rushing through her limbs that she digs them deep into her pockets just so he can't see how much his truth affects her.

 

“You weren't good enough and you will never be good enough.” He rubs at his temple like a headache had punctured him then. “Because you're not a man.”

 

Irene's heard this before. In her own home, from her own parents, the last thing being her purple backpack being thrown out the door, along with her own stumbling feet.

 

“So paying and hiding behind college girls to try and convince a woman to stop being with someone is what you consider a man?”

 

Irene watches him narrow his eyes, posture straightening up, the tension in his jaw not hard to miss when specks of his teeth comes bare.

 

“A child is the summation of love. Two women can't do that and neither can two men. Why is that? Because it's not right. Just like a mathematical equation, it doesn't add up.”

 

“You make it sound like math only has addition.”

 

“It's a simpler explanation.”

 

Irene pretends he did not just insult her intelligence. But his stare is condescending and so is his smirk that Irene considers breaking the curve along his mouth, fingers already curling into fists.

 

She tries not to let her temper get the best of her, even if it's getting volcanic, anger seeping into the crevices of her heart, scraping away the little self-control she has left.

 

Breathe in, then out.

 

“So a husband and wife who are infertile aren't really in love?”

 

His scrutiny hardens. “It isn't that simple.”

 

Irene scoffs. “How convenient.”

 

“Watch your tongue.”

 

She doesn't.

 

“If love was as simple as plugging variables into a formula,” she says between uncurling her fists, allow the blood to wash away white anger. “Then we wouldn't be having any problems.”

 

“That's because everyone keeps making deliberate errors.”

 

He speaks about love like it's limited to algorithms and lines that are required to match up; reserved for logic to understand without abstract thought.

 

His mind is as boxed as a white-picket fence.

 

But that isn't how it works. It can't be looked at with eyes as narrow as concentric circles, or be solved as easily with numbers.

 

There's more to life than mathematical limits.

 

How ironic that she thought she'd find growth under his mentorship.

 

“We're more than an equation.”

 

He chuckles. “You sound like Yerim. So desperate to be right in something so wrong.”

 

Irene's fingers twitch, like a bomb had just been triggered, a switch flipped at the sound of her name.

 

She's about to step forward when he raises a hand, his words pausing the gears in her legs.

 

“But it doesn't matter what I think. Yerim is old enough to make her own decisions.” He's rubbing fingers against his temple, as if to ease a headache. “And she chose you. Again.”

 

Silence spreads across the air faster than the oxygen she breathes. It must be staying longer than he anticipated because he's looking up at her, arched brow raised to question.

 

“Why do you look surprised? Did she not run back to you?”

 

Irene attempts to reel in her shock, hiding it behind thinned lips and pockets filled with shaking fists.

 

“She did,”

 

His gaze narrows.

 

“But she didn't tell you why? Why she suddenly appeared at your doorstep?”

 

Irene doesn't correct him.

 

The image he sketches never happened to her. But it isn't hard to picture knowing that Yerim had been staying with Sooyoung all along. To think the two of them had kept it hidden from her, too.

 

If anything, Yerim tried hard to make sure she wasn't even a choice.

 

“No.”

 

Her fists are rattling for action, just to do something - anything. But she's not willing to let loose the troubles stuffed in her pockets, hands clenched so tight that she could feel the white stretch along her skin again.

 

A scoff leaves his mouth, though from the small smile curling along his face, he sounds more defeated than disappointed.

 

“Yerim didn't run away from home because I told her she couldn't be with you.” He's fiddling with papers again, “If that was the case, then she would've ran a long time ago.”

 

Irene keeps mum, watches him sigh like exhaustion is written along his throat, the sag of his shoulders slight but telling. Almost as if he's given up.

 

“She ran because I told her she was right.”

 

Confusion swirls in her mind, feeling her expression contort into narrowed eyes and curved frowns.

 

He seems to have understood, twiddling with his pen as he continues, breath heavy with a sigh like he's tired.

 

“It doesn't matter what I do, or what I want, or what I think is best for her.” He pauses, “No man can make her happy. She was right to say that only you could. I expected her love for you to expire, but it didn’t. Though I'm sure you know that already.”

 

In a way, Irene does. But to think Yerim ran away because she already knew who she'd choose - it's worse than knowing he was the reason they broke apart.

_(“Don't make me regret leaving you more than I already do, unnie.”)_

 

So that was what Yerim meant.

 

It had nothing to do with her father's bigotry; maybe it did at first, but now it didn't matter to Yerim whether she found out the truth of their elusive break up - that he had been the one to set them up for their downfall.

 

It was because Yerim was afraid to have her find out that they could be together again. That all Irene has to do is want her back, too.

 

Yerim didn't want her to know that there was a choice to make; that there was nothing left to fight for.

 

He looks at her with a tiny smile, more grateful than disappointed. It startles Irene for how honest it is - no lines of malice scarring the curves of his lips, the timbre in his voice soaked in a certain softness only fathers have for their children.

 

“I leave her happiness to you.”

 

Yerim wanted to make sure that Seungwan was her only choice.

 

Irene manages a small smile in return, turning away, the gold knob of his office door cool beneath her touch. She speaks over her shoulder, words steadier than the harsh thrum pounding in her chest and the incessant ringing in her ears. Irene can barely hear herself over the clashing memory films of Yerim and Seungwan.

 

“I'll hand in my resignation letter first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

 _(“I still want_ you, _unnie.”)_

 

His confusion latches onto the lobes of her ears, crawling in but barely scraping away at the movie reel still playing behind her eyes. Irene's thankful he doesn't question her. Despite his candor, she can't bring herself to stay with him any longer; he's still the reason they broke in the first place.

 

“It was a pleasure working with you.” He pauses, a wry smile plaguing his face. “I'll put in a good word for you, wherever you go. Tell Yerim she doesn't have to worry about it.”

 

_(“…I just want to think about you, too.”)_

 

Irene tugs gently, hearing the soft click of the door behind her, closing an elusive chapter and opening something far more important than the “Why” to a relationship's sudden end.

 

Shoulders sag like there's no more strength to them, her feet heavier to carry with each step forward towards a decision she'll inevitably have to make. Irene squeezes her eyes shut with tired fingers, sighing into a hand, finding no comfort in the quiet when her head is noisy with thoughts of Yerim and Seungwan.

 

The chill of winter air invades her lungs, the sight of sparkling white easing a bit of the tension in her muscles, alleviating a smidge of the noises in her head. Irene digs into her pocket for the keys to her car, knowing full well that regardless of the images plaguing her thoughts, she has already made her choice.

 

Her tongue isn't itching for coffee, anymore.

 

-

 

Joy's not expecting a visitor, much less one during the afternoon when Seulgi's still in her home, taking up valuable space on her sofa.

 

But the knocks are still there, thumping against the door, ricocheting all the way into her kitchen.

 

It couldn't be Yeri because she already has her own key; so who would it be?

 

“I'll get that,” Seulgi says, springing up faster than Joy could switch the stove off.

 

To think she's cooking for the two of them again; this time for lunch. She really is no better than any other love-struck loser.

 

Dumping stir-fry onto a plate, Joy hangs up the apron by the fridge, removing the hair tie to loosen ebony over her shoulders.

 

“Who is it?”

 

She looks up to find Seulgi by the door, a nervous smile playing along her lips as Yeri stomps towards her, a frown lining hers.

 

Joy grins.

 

“Oh. Hey, Yeri. Forgot your key? And where did you stay last night—”

 

Yeri’s hand whizzes towards her like a whip.

 

The crack of skin meeting skin echoes around the living room, bouncing off the walls like bullets ricocheting. It feels like it too, with how pain stems beneath her flesh, spreading into heat, knowing red warmth begins to wash over half of her face.

 

Ow.

 

The burning spark outlining her cheek isn't tiny, Yeri's palm having made impact hard enough that she could still feel it tingle. Joy doesn't bother turning her head back to look at the younger girl, not when she's trying to blink the pain away and the shock.

 

Did Yeri really just slap her?

 

“J-Joy?!”

 

Seulgi's squeak would've jolted Joy awake, make her forget the stinging sensation of heat on her face, but Yeri's screaming words at her that Joy can't help but be stunned to listen.

 

“Why didn't you tell me that Joohyun unnie would go home?! Did you think it was a joke? Some kind of prank to play? Or did you want us to bump into each other so we could run back to you separately and tell you all about it?”

 

Joy keeps her silence, hears the way Yeri huffs her frustration, breathing hard that her panting bumps across the entire apartment. Seulgi's just as quiet, though she could see the older girl attempt to reach for her.

 

She pretends not to feel Seulgi touch her shoulder as Yeri breathes in, another gush of raging syllables spilling between gritted teeth.

 

“Because of you – because of my stupid mouth, I told her I still love her! How could you make me tell Joohyun unnie a truth she should never know?!”

 

Despite the chaos of tumbling words spewed out to her face, Joy can't help but notice how Yeri calls Joohyun by her actual name.

 

Reaching up, Joy winces at the sore warmth, biting down on sparks of pain that shoots through her as soon as fingertips meet throbbing skin.

 

Yeri wears anger like it's the only clothes she has.

 

“Why did you do that to me?! To Joohyun unnie?! Why couldn't you just leave us _alone?!”_

 

Joy bristles, gnashing teeth, the sting on her cheek nothing compared to Yeri's yells - puncturing deeper than her heart could take.

 

“Because I was getting tired of my two best friends playing hide-and-seek when all they want to do is be around each other!”

 

The screech piercing through Yeri's throat in response is massive; as if the veins on her neck could pop, boiling all the way up to her face, her hands flinging as if frustration coats them too.

 

Yeri shoves her, though she only manages to make Joy step back once.

 

“You don't know _anything!”_

 

They're a battle of yells that could probably make her neighbors complain, her throat scorching as if multiple bombs have gone off in her mouth - juggling explosives made up of words just to see who gets hurt more.

 

“Then _tell_ me!” Joy steps forward, unhindered by tiny hands pounding to make wreckage on her chest. “Tell me so I _can!_ ”

 

Yeri screams again, a sound filled with frustration so contagious that it coils around Joy's tongue too.

 

She grabs smaller shoulders, attempts to shake Yeri out of her hysterical rage.

 

“Why can't Joohyun unnie know? Why can't she know that the girl she was in love with still loves her too?”

 

Yeri's shrill yell is blood curdling, enough to shatter her ears if it weren't for the fact that she's too busy listening to the sound of heartbreak to care.

 

“Because I'm the only one who still _does!_ ”

 

Exhaustion looms across Yeri's expression once it's out, as if the anger she's worn is dissipating off her skin, her panting heavier than the weight of her confession.

 

Yeri's gritting her teeth, eyes squeezed shut as if to hold back tears that are already silently cascading past her cheeks, shoving off Joy's hands like they were too much to bear.

 

“...I'm the only one who's still in love with the same person.” Yeri's rubbing off pain with the corner of her sleeve, “Joohyun unnie didn't need to _know_ that.”

 

Joy keeps mum, knows Yeri's talking to herself more than anyone else in the room.

 

It's only when something cold presses against her cheek, easing the fire that still lingers beneath her skin, that Joy remembers Seulgi.

 

“I know you're tough and all,” Seulgi's too gentle with the frozen bag of peas that Joy knows it's more than the cold on her cheek that keeps her feet iced on the ground. “But I figured you wouldn't mind a little help. Sorry it's not an actual bag of ice. I couldn't find any in your fridge.”

 

It's moments like these that Joy is reminded of why her heart chose Seulgi in the first place.

 

Yeri's brow arches before she's turning away, waving a hand over her shoulder, plucking her respective key from the countertop, so eager to leave as if the sight annoyed her.

 

“Never mind, forget it. Sorry to intrude.”

 

Joy is about to shoot off after her, Yeri's name rising up her parched throat, until Seulgi's grip on her wrist keeps her still, staggering backwards.

 

Seulgi smiles.

 

“She'll be okay. It's still sinking in for her, so she's not exactly wanting company when she would rather punch walls and cry until she can't, anymore.”

 

Joy huffs, hearing the door click close, Yeri already gone, rendering her a sore mess like a storm had gone through and left its mark.

 

The bag of peas return to her cheek, wincing at the cool touch against her stinging skin, Seulgi's soft apologies easing more of the pain than the cold ever could.

 

“Thanks,” Joy musters up a smile, “though you really didn't have to. And sorry about the ruckus.”

 

Seulgi laughs, too tender it almost makes Joy's knees buckle at the sound.

 

“It's okay, I understand.” Joy shuts her eyes at Seulgi's light touches, the soft taps against burning skin a soothing comfort. “More than I'd like to. But that's life, you know?”

 

Joy opens her eyes just so she could roll them, bumping her shoulder against Seulgi's, watching laughter lines grow wider on Seulgi's face.

 

“You can't grow up this fast. That's not good for my heart. Didn't your heartbreak happen just yesterday or something?”

 

Seulgi bumps their shoulders again, her chuckles making safe haven into Joy's ears; the sound is intoxicating.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And to think I'm helping you out like this.” Seulgi attempts to let go of the bag of peas, but Joy catches her wrist, keeping it there. “I'm spoiling you.”

 

“I like being spoiled.”

 

Joy means it in more ways than one, but she knows Seulgi doesn't catch it all when she hears her giggle. It's nice like this. Despite the chaos that had happened just moments before.

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

Hearing Seulgi say the same line she had said last night is distracting and terrifying and a lot more attractive than Joy would like to admit.

 

Maybe it's time she gets some fresh air; breathe in crisp winter over Seulgi's constant presence, the scent of orange still so potent on her.

 

But Seulgi beats her to it.

 

“It's been fun, but I really should get going.” Seulgi readjusts their hands so Joy could hold onto the bag instead, “My parents are probably worried considering I didn't come home last night.”

 

“You didn't tell them?”

 

“I did,” Seulgi's fetching her bag by the couch, “it doesn't mean they'll stop worrying though. I'm their princess.”

 

Joy rolls her eyes at Seulgi's cheeky grin.

 

“Of course you are.”

 

She follows her to the door, watches Seulgi slip on her black studded boots and jacket, before meeting a smile that promises a next time.

 

“See you Friday?”

 

Joy can't tell if it's because they've become actual friends and not just people-sharing-the-same-air that encourages her to take her own coat off the rack, filling her arms through the sleeves, and tucking feet into her brown boots.

 

“Yeah, I'll see you Friday.” She flings the frozen bag of peas on the sofa, grinning at Seulgi's open mouth. “But I can still walk you home, right?”

 

If she was in her right mind, she would've never bothered offering something as insane as spending more time with a crush that shouldn't be lasting this long. But she isn't (Joy blames it on Yeri's slap - she didn't think it'd hurt as much as it did), so she'll go with the flow and learn her lesson the hard way.

 

Seulgi's touching her cheek, the tips of her fingers fleeting across her skin, a different sort of spark spreading along her flesh, less painful but more nerve-racking.

 

“Does it still hurt?”

 

The “Yes” is lying comfortably on her tongue, eager to jump out between her lips, but Joy swallows it back, patting Seulgi's wrist.

 

“Not anymore.”

 

Nothing hurts more than knowing they won't be anything else but this; of gestures too friendly and smiles too meaningful - all because she's already opened her heart for Seulgi to see.

 

-

 

Wendy hurries out of the shower.

 

She's combing her towel through drenched auburn, an apology already lined up behind her mouth, twisting the knob open and stepping out.

 

“Sorry, did I make you wait long?” Wendy looks up to find no one, “Yeri...?”

 

Glancing left and right, across the living room, towards the front door - Wendy sees the lacking pair of extra boots and shopping bags Yeri had left the night before.

 

It prickles at her chest to know that Yeri had gone; leaving behind a quiet apartment and a purple sticky note as her “Goodbye”.

 

Wendy peels it off the countertop, reading words written in black ink, confusion swirling in her mind at the contents.

 

_(Thanks for breakfast and giving me a place to stay for the night. It was fun getting to know you. I didn't think I'd like you all that much, but here I am, writing to say that I do. I like you, unnie. I'm not surprised Joohyun unnie does, too._

_I'm sorry for troubling you._

— _Yeri_

_P.S: Do me a favor and call Joohyun unnie. I hope this will make up for me not saying goodbye.)_

 

Wendy frowns, unsure of why she should be calling Joohyun when Yeri needs her more. What could possibly make up for the fact that Yeri chose to leave without an actual “Goodbye”?

 

Doubt embeds deep into the space between her brows, taking up the corners of her lips, wrinkling skin. She shuffles towards her bag for her phone. It doesn't make sense - why would she need to call Joohyun? And would Joohyun understand? It isn't like there was a code left behind for her to say.

 

Cradling her phone to her ear, Wendy listens to it ring, expecting Joohyun on the other line but not the sound of Joohyun's mobile ringing somewhere in their apartment. She left it behind?

 

Wendy trails after the basic tune of Joohyun's cellphone, a repetitive set of beeps, finding herself in Joohyun's respective bedroom. It's muffled beneath crinkled blankets, digging carefully and setting them aside, catching sight of blinking blue; as well as the name Joohyun had given her.

 

Home

 

Fingers trace over a bright screen, hovering along the lines that form letters together into something that's so much more than just a name; the privacy of having it written on Joohyun's personal mobile carries more weight than there are words to describe how it makes her chest swell and her stomach jump.

 

In a way, Yeri was right. This sort of makes up for not hearing her “Goodbye.”

 

But still...

 

“You're as stubborn as Joohyun.”

 

Wendy mutters to no one but herself, scrolling through Joohyun's phone and spotting 'Kim Yerim' on her contact's list. She remembers how it used to be 'Yerim <3'; how it had prickled at her heart back when she hadn't understood much of anything.

 

There's no way she could tell whether Joohyun had been the one to change Yeri's name, not for sure, at least. But if Yeri managed to go through with planning this parting gift, having full access and making edits on the fly, Wendy wouldn't doubt that Yeri could alter it herself. She would've considered Joohyun's name for her: ‘Home’, be customized by Yeri, too, but something tells her it hurt Yeri to find it - even more so to let her know.

 

Clicking the edit button, watching ‘Kim Yerim’ disappear into a blank slate, Wendy types in what is more accurate now that she knows better.

 

Yerim <3

 

“I like you too, Yeri.” Wendy says into the quiet, a response to a tiny note and a gift that doesn’t make up for any goodbye, hitting ‘Save’.

 

-

 

Yeri kicks at snow, blowing off warm air that leaves in wisps of smoke from her lips.

As soon as she hears Joy's voice and the creak of the entrance door, Yeri swivels to hide behind a corner, watches the Giant walk away with a woman she recognizes to be Joy's precious monolid crush.

 

At least one thing is going well for someone.

 

Once the two disappear further down the block, Yeri slips back into the building, going up to Joy's floor, and twisting the key in.

 

Time to start packing.

 

Contrary to what her coworkers and friends think, Yeri isn't much of a hoarder. She takes what's necessary and travels light. Not everything is useful or needs to be kept; she's glad to be more of a minimalist than most women her age.

 

Dumping all of her belongings into a single purple backpack, an old partner to the one Joohyun had, Yeri makes sure to tidy up like Joy never had a roommate in the first place; a space made for one, as it rightfully should.

 

After what she did to Joy, Yeri knows she can't stay any longer. Joy's done a lot for her; the least she could do is give her apartment back.

 

Dropping the extra key Joy had made for her on the table so Joy can spot it easily later, Yeri dials a friend.

 

“Hey, mind if I crashed at your place for a bit?” Yeri readjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder, “Just until I find my own. I won't stay long.”

 

_“Whatever you need, unnie.”_

 

Yeri shuts the lights off, looking back once just to soak the image in. She's proud of herself; it looks just like normal.

 

Joy won't have to complain about the mess she makes, anymore.

 

“Thanks, Saeron.”

 

-

 

Seulgi notices how she's starting to compare the differences between Joy and Wendy.

 

She doesn't mean to. But it's something that just happens, when she's in the comfort of her own thoughts, accompanied with the quiet.

 

Joy doesn't say “I love you.”

 

At least, not in the way Wendy did.

 

Wendy would always make sure she'd hear it, even when the television would be a little too loud and the pan would be jostling sparks of oil into the air, like firecrackers.

 

Joy says it in the way she'd talk about anything else _but_ love, rough along the edges, crass enough to puncture fragile feelings. But Seulgi knows better. Joy always means well. Even if most of the time, it doesn't sound like it.

 

Seulgi's not waiting for her to say it, either. She's not expecting a confession of feelings she's already made aware of. It'd be better not to hear it though, when she's already experiencing it in the way Joy would make sure her scarf is wrapped properly to the foods she'd offer to pay out of the blue.

 

Seulgi never lets her shoulder any bill, though. Especially when Joy's already carrying her heart around like it was something she was allowed to play with.

 

“Am I boring you?”

 

Seulgi blinks at snapping fingers, Joy's arched brow and frown sealing her thoughts away.

 

She shakes her head. “No, I was just...”

 

“What?”

 

“...I was just thinking.”

 

“So I was boring you.”

 

“N-No! Not when it was _you_ I was thinking about anywa—”

 

Joy's brow only rises higher.

 

Seulgi is frantic, waving her hands.

 

“I - I mean, I was just thinking. About everything. That's all.”

 

She clams up the best she can. For Joy's sake.

 

Joy is rolling her eyes before she's leaning back, raking fingers through her ebony hair, no more words leaving her lips. Seulgi's grateful.

 

There was no way Seulgi would ever confess to making comparisons between Joy and Wendy out loud. That would be rude and insensitive, and knowing that Joy's already tolerating her mere presence, Seulgi knows better than to rip off the tiny tether of friendship that still keeps them together.

 

Snow crunches beneath their boots, petals of falling soft white creating a picture of washed-out skies. Seulgi had insisted that she was okay with walking home alone, the distance from Joy's apartment shorter than if she were coming from Wendy's.

 

But Joy wouldn't take “no” for answer, as usual.

 

Joy's great company, but she can't help but check over once in a while, make sure Joy isn’t close to the road, nervous for the slight rumbles that spike through the ground beneath her feet whenever cars pass by.

 

Maybe it's because of a past she couldn't fix, but Seulgi feels all too aware of the distance between the sidewalk and the street.

 

“You okay?” Joy says, looking distracted that Seulgi feels slight panic rise in her chest. “You look nervous. Like, _really_ nervous. We're not even on a date.”

 

Her words don't really process when Seulgi catches sight of a truck driving too close to the curb, speed faster than what is considered safe on winter roads.

 

Seulgi reacts on impulse, yanking Joy away from the edge of the sidewalk, clutching at her arm as if she'd disappear if her grip isn't tight enough.

 

 

Joy stumbles into her, a grunt coughing out of her mouth, the impact easing Seulgi's worries - even if her side hurts from Joy's pointy elbow, because it means that Joy's far away from incoming traffic.

 

Seulgi can't let go even when Joy's turning to her, a hiss leaving her lips.

 

“You've got quite the grip,” Joy grasps her fingers, attempting to lift them off. “And you pull hard, too. What was all that for, anyway?”

 

Seulgi tries to calm the jittering in her heart, feeling it beat beneath her ribcage, bones quaking, the flashes of Wendy's unmoving body on the road dissipating slowly from her vision.

 

“I - I just,” Seulgi shuts her eyes at all the red she still sees in her head, lips trembling. “You were just too close - it's dangerous, I can't - I can't _believe_ you'd walk so close to the road!”

 

Joy scoffs. “What are you talking about? There was literally room for one more person before you pulled me in. Now there's space for _two._ ”

 

Seulgi peeks to find Joy gesturing with her free arm the amount of distance they are from the curb.

 

Oh.

 

She feels timid under Joy's stare, avoiding her gaze by focusing on her fingers still grasping Joy's arm, her hands loosening their grip - but not enough to let go.

 

“Right, um, sorry. It's—” Seulgi can't say it's because of Wendy's accident - that isn't her story to tell, “Forget it, it's just a habit. It's nothing.”

 

Joy snorts. “How you grabbed me like I was about to die surely doesn't seem like just a habit.”

 

“Well it is, okay?” Seulgi huffs, turning away.

 

Letting go comes easier, her hands uncoiling their fortress grip around Joy's arm, shoving them in the warmth of her pockets. Footprints in white crack beneath her boots, trudging on, ignoring the additional crackles of snow behind her.

 

“Hey, wait.” Joy’s gripping her elbow, her breath puffing out in smokes from the chill. “I didn’t get to say thank you.”

 

Seulgi doesn’t respond, more frustrated at herself for overthinking things - and getting a bit carried away; Joy was right. She wasn’t close to the curb at all.

 

Joy tugs her back. “You were just looking out for me, so thanks.”

 

The red on Joy’s lips have gone chapped, cheeks colored a natural savory hue of pink from the cold, more prettier than the ones drawn by makeup. The palm print on Joy’s face has faded slightly, leaving behind an outline that tells it hurts more than she’d ever admit.

 

Do people always tell white lies to the ones they like?

 

“You’re zoning out, again.” Joy’s finger pokes her forehead, “I guess I really am boring.”

 

“I was thinking about how you’d tell me you love me without actually ever saying it.”

 

Watching Joy recoil as if she had just physically hit her is frightening; to think she affects Joy this much to have someone so tough (or at least, as tough as most could get) flinch as if she held something over her.

 

Seulgi doesn’t know what to do with it.

 

“You make me listen for it.”

 

“You’re weird.” But just like usual, Joy bounces back as if she never got hurt. “You bring this up while we're near your house.” She looks around, “Which one is your house, again?”

 

Seulgi points at the one with Christmas lights still draping over their windows and doorstep, colors of blue and yellow and red twinkling in the snow.

 

Joy ushers her towards it, the weight of her hand gentle against Seulgi's back.

 

“Go on, it's cold. I want to go home already.”

 

Seulgi can tell it isn't really a lie; Joy's teeth are chattering, shoulders quaking beneath her jacket, her green scarf already wrapped up to half of her cheeks. Her nose is as pink as her ears and face; all Seulgi wants to do is hold her close, warm her up like a pile of blankets and sweaters and jackets.

 

“Thanks for keeping me company, though you really didn't have to.”

 

Joy snorts. “Too late, already did. Now shoo.”

 

But all Seulgi hears is “I love you” despite the curtness in her voice, the lazy shrug of her shoulders, the rigid nod of her head; and maybe that's why she reaches up, careful not to press deep between the outlines of a faded palm.

 

“Hey, wait, what are you—”

 

Seulgi doesn't listen to the string of panic on stumbling lips, leaning in, slightly pulling down Joy’s soft green scarf so she could paint a chaste kiss on injured pink.

 

When she pulls back, Joy's redder than the scarlet hues of her apples still sitting in the kitchen.

 

“My parents always kiss the spot where it hurts the most to make it feel better.” Seulgi smiles, backing away and towards the front door. “I hope it makes you feel better.”

 

Seulgi knows where it hurts the most, but how could she kiss a heart when love won’t let her choose on her own in the first place?

 

She waves at Joy, signals her to go, grinning when she finds her waving back before spinning around, fading into the gray of falling snow.

 

Heartache is a tune Seulgi’s used to singing.

 

But somehow, as Joy disappears behind the horizon of sprinkling snow, Seulgi can imagine herself singing melodies to songs where pain no longer exists; she can picture being in love with Joy. It’s almost easy.

 

Seulgi turns away, twisting her key and turning the knob, sighing at the warm air that coats her completely as soon as she enters.

 

But knowing Joy, she probably wouldn’t wait around for something as elusive as singing the same tune together.

 

-

 

Yeri hopes catering to customers will ease off the edge in her system; relinquish whatever frustration she has left for Joy, anger for Joohyun's stubborn streak, and disappointment for Wendy's sickening kindness.

 

But most of all, for the charade she's still trying to keep up. To think she's running away again - hopefully this is the last time. As much as she likes carrying light, Yeri would appreciate being able to settle down permanently some time soon.

 

As soon as she rounds the corner, just a few steps away from her workplace, Yeri spots silk cascades of ebony, sprinkled with flecks of white. Her heart is leaning comfortably against the side of the restaurant, dressed in the same clothes she's worn when they'd kissed on her bed that same morning, still without a jacket - dusting her cheeks a soft glow of pink.

 

Even in the cold, with ears scrawled in red and lips chapped from winter, Joohyun still manages to make her feel warm.

 

“You could've at least waited inside,” Yeri starts when she gets closer, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. “I know you don't like the cold.”

 

Joohyun steps off the wall of bricks, uncrossing arms to dust off snow from her sleeves.

 

“I couldn't think over all the chattering,” she's raking a hand through onyx black, specks of white fluttering from her fingers. “It’s quieter outside.”

 

Yeri tries not to show she's nervous, gaze placed elsewhere, settled on the tiny pile of snow littered next to the light post. She clears her throat, swallowing the nerves clawing up her throat.

 

“What were you thinking about?”

 

The truth is out and despite all the clothes she wears, layered with sweaters and a fluffy jacket, along with leggings inside her jeans, Yeri feels painfully bare - nothing but skin and bones under Joohyun's stare.

 

Joohyun takes a breath.

 

“It wasn't the truth of knowing who caused us to break that you wanted to hide,” Joohyun's hands settle in her pockets. “You wanted to hide why you ran away, and it was because—”

 

Yeri raises a finger to Joohyun's lips, bravery surging up for something as spontaneously intimate as this; calling for silence against soft flesh she's learned to no longer kiss.

 

Confusion swirls along irises she's gotten used to looking at in her dreams, giggling at the touch of Joohyun's breath seeping into her skin, knowing it's not hers to keep anymore.

 

Yeri takes back her hand, cradling it behind her; the tip of her finger still burns under the lingering ghost of Joohyun's mouth.

 

“...It was because the one person who wouldn't let me be with you suddenly told me I could.” The laughter that leaves her throat is as bitter as the coffee she’s used to drinking, no longer having Joohyun’s lips to sweeten the taste. “What was the point in telling you if the reason I broke us up no longer exists?”

 

She kicks at snow beside a lump of ice, watching sprinkles of white dust the pillar of bricks; distracts herself with tiny specks filling in the spaces between them so she won’t have to look at Joohyun.

 

Joohyun understands now – and it’s the worst.

 

“How do you think that made me feel, unnie?” Yeri draws squiggles with the heel of her boot on fluffy white, “To be told that the past two years was nothing more than waiting it out until the idea of lesbians was tolerable enough for a dad to handle. To find out that if I held on a little longer, fight for us just like how you were, we wouldn't be like this.”

 

As soon as she heard her father tell her she was right – that she was essentially allowed to be with Joohyun, Yeri couldn’t look at him anymore. With a packed backpack of things she only needed, Yeri didn’t spend another minute waiting for her father to stop yelling – _“Wait, come back!”_ before she dialed Joy’s cellphone – prayed for her to pick up.

 

Funny how people change – she’d completely forgotten that her father could, too.

 

To think that all she did was for nothing; she didn’t want Joohyun to know that. At least then, Yeri could pretend that all of it wasn’t a waste.

 

“You had faith in us and I didn't.” Yeri blinks back tears, swallows a sob too eager to leave her mouth. “...And I'm sorry I didn't.”

 

If she had known earlier that blueprints weren't the only thing she could follow in life, to not ignore her heart in favor of a status-quo, then she wouldn't have let them go.

“…You should've told me sooner.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Yeri fiddles with the ends of Joohyun's sleeves, anything to keep from looking at Joohyun. “I've never been very good at making the right decisions.”

 

Joohyun laughs, and despite their conversation being wrapped up in worn-out bandages over unhealed wounds, Yeri laughs along, too.

 

Yeri wishes she was never brave.

 

Bravery was what moved her limbs to reach up and kiss Joohyun under the summer rain. It was also what made her let Joohyun go, because nothing meant more than keeping her safe.

 

How ironic that it no longer applies.

 

Suddenly Yeri couldn’t stop telling the truth.

 

“What scared me more than telling you why I left was finding out that afterwards, you'd still be in love with Wendy unnie.” Maybe it’s because everything else is out in the open that Yeri finds no need to restrict the insecurities in her head, gushing out as if the words were waiting to be said. “And I didn’t want to know that for sure, because at least that way, I could still have my 'what if' – that you chose Wendy unnie only because you didn't know I was an option. But it didn’t work out that way.”

 

Joohyun’s silence is deafening; no “you’re wrong,” because she isn’t.

 

Yeri can feel tears attempt to spill from her eyelids, lingering just beneath the rim, waiting to fall and cascade over her skin. She won’t let it ruin her makeup – especially not when she has work in fifteen minutes.

 

Stupid Joohyun. Why couldn’t she wait after work, at least?

 

“I just didn't want to hear the choice you already made.”

 

Joohyun hums, hands coming out of her pockets to clasp their fingers together; Joohyun’s skin is cold and red and Yeri wants nothing more than to warm her up and hold her close.

 

“...So what if I'm still in love with Seungwan?” Yeri almost flinches at the certainty, how strength carries her syllables like they melted there. “It doesn't change the fact that I was in love with you first.”

 

Yeri smiles, a touch of bittersweet longing plaguing her tongue, coloring her voice.

 

“That's just a nicer way of saying that you're not in love with me, anymore.”

 

Joohyun’s rubbing her thumbs across her hand, drawing invisible circles like the time they spent cozying up on the sofa, watching dramas they couldn’t care less about.

 

“Yeah,” Yeri hopes it isn’t obvious how she winces, like Joohyun’s confirmation doesn’t hurt. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

 

There it is. Without a doubt.

 

Yeri will remember the times they’ve shared – count her blessings that she’s managed to at least love Joohyun, once, and be loved in return.

Joohyun will always be the warmth of small moments.

 

“Hey, Irene unnie?” Yeri says, squeezing Joohyun’s hands, attempt to color warmth in her bones.

 

“Hm?”

 

“When I finally get my driver's license, can I drive you around the city? I've always wanted to.” Yeri's smile feels wistful, like a final lock to a book they’ll no longer write together.

 

“Got sick of my driving, Yerim?”

 

Her laughter is bright despite the tinge of longing that still colors her voice. But Yeri feels better. At least, a little bit.

 

Maybe this time she’ll finally be able to say that she’s okay – and actually mean it.

 

“Yeah. Sometimes you drive too slow, you oldie.” Joohyun's chuckles have Yeri giggling along.

 

Joohyun bumps their elbows together.

 

“Then I guess you better pass that test.”

 

Yeri scoffs.

 

“I will, and when I do, I'll take you out shopping and we can try on some new shades of lipstick.” Yeri points at her own lips, mustering up a smug grin – even if it’s still just pretend, so she could prove a point. “I've been meaning to move on from this one, you know.”

 

Joohyun smiles, her look all-knowing, an expression Yeri hopes she’ll be able to feel on her own lips.

 

“Of course.”

 

Yeri chances for one more selfish kiss, but on a spot more for friendship than romance, pressing gently against a pink cheek, feeling Joohyun’s cool skin warm up beneath her touch. Unlooping her fingers between Joohyun's, she lets her go, lightly shoving her away and hoping Joohyun doesn’t catch the one tear she couldn’t keep from spilling.

 

“Now go away. I’m late for work because of you.”

 

With Joohyun’s laughter cutting through the crisp winter chill, lighthearted as if nothing weighs down her chest anymore, Yeri watches her wave, nodding to her “Let me know when you pass that test,” before Yeri clears away the rest of the tears that fall from her eyelids.

 

Thankful that the mascara she chose to wear today is waterproof, though she’ll have to fix her foundation a bit, Yeri enters the restaurant for her late-night shift; hoping that it’ll at least keep her mind off of the fact that Joohyun really isn’t in love with her anymore.

 

-

 

Yeri's been busy flicking through old love stories in her storybook, but Joohyun's already started a new one.

 

At least, that's what Joy sees.

 

So it doesn't surprise her when she comes home that evening to find every speck of Yeri: her scattered clothes, messy assortments of lipsticks, and overpriced shoes, gone like there were no more pages to their book.

 

It's a relatively good distraction from Seulgi's uninvited kiss; intimate like there was a promise written in it, a vow of comfort over what her heart prefers it to be. Joy won't over think it; it was merely a gesture made in kind - no one moves on that quickly; especially not when in love.

 

Joy hates one thing more than Seulgi.

 

“Stubborn little squirt.” She's drawing the tips of her fingers along the edges of a bed that looks too clean, “You're just like Joohyun unnie.”

 

Joy knows she's talking to herself, but that's only because Yeri's no longer loitering about in her home, pestering her with her presence.

 

She hates not being given the choice to say “Goodbye.”

 

So with one more sweep of her gaze across her little apartment, looking more foreign by the minute without all the mess Yeri's made for the past few months she's been here, Joy slips her boots back on and leaves to knock some sense into her.

 

-

 

She gets comfortable at a table seated for two.

 

Joy likes being beside the window; it's just so she can stare outside at all the snow when boredom inevitably seeps through her head, trances her fingers to tap dance on the table, hum tunes to old songs while the restaurant bustles with life.

 

Yeri's busy tending to a couple dressed in Prada, her little notepad taking in her scribbling, pearly whites illuminating her face - practiced and charming and perfect.

 

Joy grins as soon as Yeri walks up to her table, spotting her frown the moment their eyes meet.

 

She crosses her legs, watching Yeri pluck her notepad from her pocket, clicking her pen open.

 

“What would you like to order?”

 

“Right, well.” Joy curls a strand of ebony behind her ear, “I'd like to have one apology, three fried chickens, and one of my best friends back. To-go, by the way.” Joy arches a brow, a smirk drawing her lips. “Did you get all that, Yeri?”

 

Yeri's mouth is agape, and it's all Joy needs to feel smug, grinning her way.

 

“Why do I need to apologize to you?” Her question portrays her bewilderment better than Joy expects.

 

“Because you left and never bothered telling me.”

 

She won't have Yeri apologize for hitting her.

 

The slap wasn't uncalled for; Yeri was right about her wanting to hear their versions of the same story. It was a window into their thoughts and feelings, and Joy enjoyed being their pillar of support. As horrible as it sounds, it was the truth.

 

“And why should I?”

 

“Because we're best friends and the least you could do is give me the choice to say 'no'.” She grasps more ebony to twirl between her fingers, “Now I can relate to Joohyun unnie.”

 

It's off-handed, but deliberate all the same. Joy loves Joohyun as much as she loves Yeri. They take up equal parts in her heart – not that she'd ever tell them that, of course.

 

“...What?”

 

“You heard me.” Joy taps her foot against Yeri's shin, “Who said I wanted you to move out in the first place?”

 

There's an expression on Yeri's face that Joy suddenly can't read. It's nothing she's really seen before, but then again, all Yeri's ever shown her were overwhelming images of snarky tongues and rare bouts of vulnerable honesty.

 

Her lips quiver as if words are trembling to come out, so Joy encourages her.

 

She taps Yeri's shin with her shoe again.

 

“And yeah, I know I only got one bed and the couch isn't all that comfortable, but you never had a problem with invading my personal space and stealing all the blankets.” Joy can't help but smile, “So what's the hold up? Are you going to take my order or what?”

 

Yeri's attempting to scowl, her lips curling to frown, but there's a certain glimmer in her eyes, as if there are tears hiding in plain sight. Nothing spills from her eyelids though when she finally speaks, her voice sounding rasp.

 

Joy keeps note of how Yeri never bothers to dodge her pestering foot.

 

“...I'm not a particularly good roommate,”

 

Joy rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

 

“...And I'm not really good at cleaning up after myself, either.”

 

Joy kicks her shin again, more affectionate than she's used to, but Yeri's looking a little delicate right now and it's a bit worrisome.

 

“I know. You're terrible at it.” Joy snorts at a memory of having to hide Yeri's clothes away from Joohyun.

 

Yeri's giggling, rubbing her elbow, a sheepish smile written on her lips.

 

“And I'll probably won't stop talking about Irene unnie...” She says, her voice waning slightly. “...at least, not for a very long time.”

 

Joy scoffs, combing her hair back. She notices how Yeri’s back to calling Joohyun ‘Irene’ again. Maybe she’s feeling better, now.

 

“As if you weren't chatty about her already, so it's fine.” She's shrugging at Yeri's small laugh, “But please, just keep your bedroom experiences to yourself. I don't need to know how far Joohyun unnie's tongue can go.”

 

Yeri's choking on air then, a flush of red rising fast along her cheeks that Joy's fascinated at just how quick it colors her skin.

 

“Y-You know?!”

 

Joy's attempting to muffle a laugh behind her hand, shaking her head and ignoring the pout on Yeri's lips.

 

“I'm kidding, Yeri. But thanks for the insight. You're definitely telling me everything once you come back home.” Joy winks, grinning at the red that seems to be permanently stained on Yeri's cheeks. “And that means every little detail.”

 

Yeri's mouth goes agape.

 

“Wha – I can't, that's _private_ and—” she pauses, “Wait, 'home'?”

 

“Yeah.” Joy's kicking Yeri's shin again, this time unapologetic for the little stain her shoe leaves on Yeri’s black work pants. “Got a problem with that, roomie?”

 

It seems like Yeri's finally snapped out of her rigid stupor, retaliating with a stomp to Joy's foot.

 

“Ow!”

 

Joy's not entirely surprised, all things considered, but still. Ouch.

 

Yeri huffs, and even though it's obvious how much she's trying not to show she's grateful - because Joy knows she is, or at least, she better be, she's shuffling her feet and fidgeting her fingers; a rare sight Joy's intrigued to see.

 

She's only ever seen it present for Joohyun. No one could make Yeri as shy: a blubbering idiot, all flushed in pink, twiddling their fingers - Joy finds some pride in managing to illicit a bit of her meek habits.

 

Yeri's small smile has Joy reeling; suddenly she's not sure if she's even talking to the same person.

 

Joohyun got to see this? More than once?

 

“...Okay, roomie.”

 

That's a lot of opportunities missed for blackmail material.

 

“Good. I'll be back again before your shift ends, so you better be ready to move in.”

 

Yeri laughs. “Fine. But I'm not going to talk about my bedroom experiences with Irene unnie.”

 

Joy snorts, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms; she feels a smirk gracing her lips.

 

“Nothing a good drink or two can't fix.”

 

Yeri laughs. A smile is bright on her face - it has a glow that doesn't surprise Joy that Joohyun had fallen in love with her once.

 

“I love you, unnie.”

 

It's nothing Joy expects – of course not. A voiced confession and respect in age all packed in one short sentence? And from _Yeri?_

 

Joy grins, shrugging her shoulders.

 

It's not often she gets to hear Yeri verbally appreciate her. She won't make fun of her this time.

 

“Love you too, you little squirt. Now shoo and go do your job. And don’t forget my chicken.”

 

-

 

Yeri didn't think she'd ever call Joy's apartment, home.

 

But now that it's true, it isn't as far-fetched as it would be if she were to consider Joohyun's as home instead.

 

Joohyun isn't a lie she tells to herself every night. Yeri's never needed it - knows that Joohyun won't be there when slumber comes.

 

But that doesn't stop her dreams from letting Joohyun in anyway. It'll take months, years, probably even a decade - or maybe more, before Yeri can keep her out; dream about everything else but Joohyun. Or maybe time won’t be able to kill the memories of Joohyun’s kisses; who knows.

 

For now though, beneath the comfort of blankets she shares with Joy, Yeri will deal with dreaming of Joohyun for a little longer. She's accepted that Joohyun's chosen someone else; it hurts a lot less that way. But it doesn't mean she has to have Joohyun gone from her mind completely.

 

“Stop thinking and sleep, Yeri. I can hear your brain still working over the sound of my obnoxious breathing.”

 

Joy's snarky interruption is appreciated, even if Yeri would prefer her to be a little less sharp and a bit more soft. At least when they’re in bed together under the covers.

 

Jabbing an elbow to Joy's ribs is a hopeful attempt that maybe she could dull the edges a little.

 

When the quiet settles and the constant murmur of Joy's clock plays like a lullaby - tick, tock, tick, tock, curtains of sleep fall over Yeri's eyes.

 

She sees Joohyun.

 

_(“Call me. Whenever you need me. Whenever you're thinking of me - and even when you're not. Whenever you're scared, or feel alone, or happy, or bored, or angry. Even when you just want someone to listen or when you just want to hear my voice - call me.”)_

 

Instead of a lover, all she has are memories of one.

 

And that's okay.

 

She reaches out, taking Joohyun's face in hands that can't stop trembling and pulls her in for a kiss she can only dream of.

 

Yeri calls for her until they sink together, a tangle of limbs and tresses of ebony and copper.

 

She’ll ignore the morning light when it beams against her eyelids, tomorrow; attempt to keep Joohyun in a dreamscape for a little longer until it'll be impossible to feel her kisses. It’ll hurt to wake up; she knows that.

 

But oh well. Yeri isn't in a rush to move on, anyway.

 

-

 

Irene comes home to Seungwan's smile.

 

“Hey,” Irene says, dumping her boots by the door. “I bought dinner. I hope you're up for Chinese food?”

 

Seungwan's approach is quiet but swift, finding herself cradled in gentle hands, Seungwan's palms warm against her cheeks.

 

“You're freezing,” Irene watches Seungwan pat her down, as if to press heat along her neck, her arms, her forehead. “You're going to get sick.”

 

She halts Seungwan's panicked hands and holds them between her fingers, pulling them in and leaving a kiss against Seungwan's fingertips.

 

“W-What are you doing?”

 

“Warming myself up.” Irene says, chuckling at Seungwan's confusion. “Isn’t that what you were doing?”

 

Seungwan's laughter latches onto Irene's earlobes, crawling in and nestling there, comfortable and soothing; as if her favorite song came to stay.

 

“I’m glad you bought food,” Seungwan says. Irene let's her help with the bags of take-out, shoulders and hands bumping together. “I was getting hungry and didn't know what to make.”

 

Seungwan's dressed in pyjamas patterned with blue and gold, her hair tidied up in a bun, tiny strands straying from small pins. There's something to Seungwan's smile and clothes that draws comfort in Irene's chest, more relaxed than the past few days when all they saw was each other's brief greetings written on sticky notes or dry-erase boards tagged on the refrigerator.

 

“Did everything go okay?”

 

Irene hums to Seungwan's question, the two of them shifting to the couch, television left on mute, images of a movie she doesn’t recognize flickering across the screen. Their take-out lies comfortably on their laps, small slivers of heat leaving in wisps of smoke.

 

“Yeah, it did. Thankfully.” She pokes at a broccoli dipped in sauce, “What about you? Are you okay?”

 

Irene remembers Seungwan saying that she needed to talk to her tonight. She sounded more sure of herself, like she wasn’t so lost anymore.

 

Seungwan stares at her food, picking at the ends of the carton; looking more fidgety than Irene remembers her to be.

 

Irene presses a hand on Seungwan’s knee. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m more nervous than scared,” Seungwan says, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t know what you’ll think of me after this.”

 

Irene frowns. “Why would I think of you any differently?”

 

There’s a secret written across Seungwan’s eyes; how she looks at her in a way that is harder to read, emotions covered as if curtained by a single purpose.

 

Seungwan is steady when she asks.

 

“If you were in love with Yeri first, and the only reason you aren’t together anymore is because you forgot you were in love with her to begin with, what would you do?”

 

It’s almost frightening how the air shifts; how tension grows like a silent crawler, already spread vast across the apartment. Irene feels it coil around her chest.

 

From the sound of Seungwan’s voice, more puzzling than there are pieces of it, Irene knows it carries a weight that holds Seungwan together – as if her entire being rides on this question, alone.

 

Irene makes sure regret doesn’t leave her lips.

 

“I’d be living my life because I wouldn’t remember that I was in love in the first place.”

 

“And what if you suddenly did?” Seungwan’s biting her lip, as if to clamp down on the nerves trembling along her mouth. “What if you suddenly remembered that you were in love with her, but you already learned to love someone else?”

 

“Then I’d choose.”

 

Seungwan’s eyes carry tears that have yet to shed, glimmering across her gaze that Irene could feel the weight of it crush her chest further, pressing down on her lungs and squeezing air faster than she could breathe it in.

 

“…Would you choose me?” Seungwan begins to tap numbers on the back of Irene’s hand, “If I was that someone else, and you remembered loving Yeri, would you still choose me?”

 

Irene catches how Seungwan alludes to the decision she’s already made.

 

Silence lines her lips, words pausing behind her mouth. The questions Seungwan asks has painted a picture for her, the strokes becoming clearer, memories of Seungwan’s noises and habitual ticks starting to click together.

 

Irene’s eyes gradually widen, the images finally sinking in until there isn’t any blur left to clear up. Seungwan’s referring—

 

“…Because I choose you over Seulgi.”

 

—to herself.

 

_(“All these feelings I have – the ones I've learned on my own...What if I'm happy the way I am now? Would that be wrong?”)_

 

So that was what she meant.

 

_(“People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead.”)_

 

Seungwan wears doubt like it’s the only outfit she knows.

 

“Wouldn’t we be a mistake?” Irene blinks at the sudden question, watches Seungwan lower her head. “Yerim never stopped thinking about you. She still cares about you and loves—”

 

“Like Seulgi?” Irene quips as if it were reflex.

 

There are still a lot of questions she wants to ask: things like “How did you forget” and “Does Seulgi know?” But Irene can’t bring herself to ask any of them when Seungwan sounds like hope isn’t an option for her.

 

They're not all that different. Not at its core, at least. Underneath all the technicalities of forgotten memories and rules of a white-picket fence, they have two people who still love them.

 

If anything, Seungwan and herself were the problem; they found love in someone else.

 

But was that wrong?

 

“If falling in love with you was a mistake,” Irene pauses, “then it's a mistake I don't plan on fixing.”

 

Seungwan’s frown is deep across her lips, guilt so palpable that Irene could almost choke on it from the sound alone.

 

“But what about Yeri?”

 

Irene’s done with maybe’s and what if’s and could haves, should haves, would haves, and did.

 

Seungwan’s altruism is beautiful. But it’d be nice if Seungwan could save some of the care she has for others, just for herself, too.

 

“I spent two years being in love with Yerim,” Irene turns her hand so Seungwan’s counting the taps of her finger against her palm, hoping it’ll soothe the jitters she hears in her voice. “And now I'm in love with you. You make it sound like falling in love with you was a choice I could make.”

 

Seungwan’s quiet, but Irene knows she’s still thinking with the way her finger doesn’t stop tapping numbers on her skin.

 

Irene ushers her to look up, lifting her chin.

 

“Do you want me to go back?”

 

Seungwan clutches her forearm as if out of panic, as soon as her question floats between them.

 

“I don't—!” Seungwan grips tighter, voice going quieter. “...I don't want that. But we'll hurt them, won’t we? If we...”

 

Irene musters up a smile at the way Seungwan trails off, grasping her shaking hand, peeling her clutch off her sleeve so she can kiss Seungwan's knuckles, ease them of their trembling.

 

She doesn’t know why Seungwan’s suddenly doubting herself; she hadn’t been second-guessing this morning, or even in the hallway. But maybe it’s because there’s nothing really stopping them anymore that startles Seungwan like this.

 

Maybe it’s the freedom that they could _happen_ that scares Seungwan into doubt.

 

“...I know.” Irene says, melting her words into soft skin, watching warmth tattoo pink along Seungwan's cheeks.

 

When tremors no longer coil Seungwan's fingers, Irene shifts to lean in, kissing Seungwan's cheek, chuckling at the heat seeping onto her lips.

 

“I know,” Irene says again, tracing her mouth along Seungwan's jaw, feeling her shudder. “I know.”

 

Irene understands what Seungwan is trying to say. But she's made her choice and she won't let Yerim dangle between a “Yes” and a “No” anymore. She deserves better than that.

 

_(“Don't make me a maybe, unnie.”)_

 

She pauses at the corner of Seungwan's lips, watches how Seungwan's half-lidded eyes follow her mouth.

 

The last thing Yerim would want from her is to be her “maybe.”

 

“...But I love you, Seungwan.”

 

And there is nothing anyone could do about it.

 

When tears pool beneath Seungwan's eyes, almost as if she couldn’t believe it, spilling to sketch along her skin, Irene cradles her face. Her thumbs are gentle when she erases them so they don't scar longer than necessary.

 

Seungwan has shut her eyes, as if to stave off any more tears, but Irene only finds the image beautiful – and all the more encouraging.

 

Irene retrieves both of their take-outs, settling them on the center table, noting that the light wisps of steam have all disappeared. Their food has gone cold, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when Seungwan’s like this – attempting to stay together despite already being completely torn apart.

 

So Irene seals the gaps, shutting her eyes as soon as she can taste raspberry, listening to Seungwan's whimper and the soft call of her name – almost as if it were a plead for help.

 

“Hyun...”

 

Seungwan becomes her photograph.

 

Irene follows her down, steadying herself on the couch, making sure Seungwan’s comfortable beneath her. She kisses the planes of her skin, captures Seungwan's moans into her memory that's longer than any film, tracing fingers across the expanse of trembling alabaster.

 

Every image is rendered into her brain, inked in crisp edges and curves of Seungwan's body, along with the sounds of her breathless pleasure, enough to churn Irene's stomach in desperation to hear more.

 

“Hyun-ah…”

 

Irene shudders at the sound of her name, how it slips out of Seungwan's mouth like all the other noises that spill from her throat. It melts into Irene's ears along with Seungwan's moans, coiling thunder under her ribcage, her heart going rampant with each sound.

 

Irene traces fingers beneath a cotton shirt, exploring Seungwan's stomach, mapping the arch of Seungwan's neck up to the tears beneath her eyes with kisses along the way. She’s not sure how far she’s allowed to go, especially when they’re still on the couch – it’s nothing compared to a bed. But would it even be appropriate right now?

 

She just wants to kiss Seungwan’s tears away.

 

“I’d choose you, Wan.” Irene says between the kisses she places on pink cheeks. “I’d still choose you.”

 

Because even when she still remembers loving Yerim, how she can still recall their every moment, every touch, every kiss, every promise— she still chose Seungwan.

 

Salt seeps onto her tongue as if they were unspoken apologies.

 

Seungwan’s bubbling laughter is choked with tears and disbelief, as if she can’t fathom the reality of it all. But it’s true. Irene wants to prove to her how much it’s true.

 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Irene writes her words against Seungwan’s eyelids, presses light kisses against soft skin. “Don’t apologize for being my priority.”

 

Fingers thread through Irene’s hair, pulling her down, yanking her in for a kiss that’s needy and desperate and _more._ Seungwan’s only response is a hunger Irene is all too willing to satiate, fumbling with the button on Seungwan's pyjamas, her focus a mere blur when Seungwan makes her head spin – raspberry filling her up.

 

Seungwan whimpers against her lips.

 

“I thought you forgot...”

 

Seungwan’s breathy desperation is mixed in with rekindled hope; it only makes Irene dizzier, her head whirling to hear more, reassure her that she’d never forget. With the way Seungwan clutches onto her like she’s not planning to let go, Irene wouldn’t be surprised if their intimacy evolves further into bare flesh and bones.

 

When Seungwan begins to crawl hands beneath her sweater, the tips of her fingers etching fire across Irene’s skin, feeling a moan eager to erupt from her throat, Irene pulls back, breathless.

 

“Do you want to go to the bedroom? The couch isn’t all that comfortab—“

 

Seungwan hushes her with a scathing kiss, shutting her up better than any other method Irene could ever want.

 

“…I don’t care _where,_ ” Seungwan’s voice has gone hoarse, the pause punctuating her point, “…I just want _you._ ”

 

Irene doesn’t need to hear more.

 

“ _Please…_ ”

 

Especially not when Seungwan begins to beg like _that._

 

Irene shudders at the need she hears, tremors quaking her limbs at how much Seungwan’s already winding her up with just her voice. God, she’s always been weak with Seungwan.

 

“If you want to stop, tell me.” She says between kisses against Seungwan's groans, exploring Seungwan’s skin beneath stubborn clothing. “...And I'll stop.”

 

Seungwan's response has nothing to do with words, feeling her nod, noting the way Seungwan only pulls her down closer.

 

Irene marks Seungwan's skin with her teeth along her neck to the tips of her collarbones, reaching back down for the button on Seungwan's frustrating pyjama pants. When it finally pops off, along with the sound of cotton sliding down, Irene doesn't hesitate to wrench it off, flicking it somewhere behind her, and away from Seungwan.

 

Her hand is eager to explore, the other busy with keeping her steady above a panting Seungwan, tracing the smooth slopes of Seungwan's thigh, playing notes off her skin, calling for each whimper Seungwan makes.

 

The planes and curves of Seungwan’s stomach and chest and legs are intoxicating – they’re as dizzying as the slopes of Seungwan’s lips, the edges of her jaw, and the shell of delicate ears. Irene’s teeth rakes down to the lobe, nibbling and finding delight in knowing that Seungwan’s moans only grow louder, feeling her squirm.

 

When her hand traces back up, curling fingers over the waistband of Seungwan's blue underwear, Irene can feel Seungwan twitch, how she holds her breath as if to anticipate.

 

“Hyun...”

 

Dipping down to capture Seungwan's lips, swallow her name, Irene smiles at the feeling of beauty trembling beneath her, how Seungwan grips her wrist, urging her to slip inside and feel her closer, seep into soft heat.

 

“… _Please_ …”

 

It's all the permission Irene needs, kissing Seungwan deeper, listening to the noises Seungwan makes, curling into her ears like audio plaque. Irene doesn’t want it to end.

 

With moans and butchered calls of her name playing as music to their intimacy, finished with all of the maybe’s and what if’s that had haunted her for two years, Irene begins to write love letters for someone new, stroking words between Seungwan's thighs and hopes she knows it, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be posted on new year’s eve, but clearly that didn’t happen. This chapter even got much more longer than it was supposed to, so this update is actually the first half. Thank you to my good friend Cheetolord, for helping me finally decide that it was okay to cut it in half because the length was just that long. At least this way, the next chapter will be posted faster. Go read their works; I’m sure you’ll love it – especially for those who are seulrene shippers.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.
> 
>  
> 
> Happy new year!


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